April 2016

unseen trees seed the dark

a moth enters my waiting

word-spent
the womb-held absolute
womb-held

without cause
the sound of water . . .
just the words

 

autumn wind
deepening the sound of
an empty bottle

before leaf shed the plumage light retains

in a mosquito's buzz
the strand of my thoughts
pierces hers

burnt haiku
escape their failings
as they rise

star-struck night –
on earth the light shed
to banish them

loneliness nestles into listening