new year wind . . .
a cloudfront unwinds
its forecast
seeming new
a path of milestones
through tombstones
tribute to john carley
 
wind dance —
a blackbird parts
from its song

new moon —
emptiness tugs
at me

autumn shadows —
my image slips behind
a thousand eyes

in silence
a rose darkens
the night

a black swan
stretches into the mist
silencing heaven

windswept dunes —
what lips pare mine
of words?

dusky sound . . .
my smile enters hers
noiselessly

cloudless day . . .
surface ripples terraform
a stream bed

. . . . . . . . . .
. . . taiga . . .
. . virtually . .
. . . . a . . . . .
. . . haiku . . .
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windswept rain —
everyone I pass
a Buddha

limpid stream . . .
my eyes hold on
to nothing

mountain mist
almost to see through
not a word to say

mobile call —
the spring in her voice
in the rain

the child I was
singsongs the silence
still to come

dawn chorus . . .
a tui sounds out
the rusty gate

shadow by shadow
an eel rises to the bread —
what breaks this body?

lightning storm . . .
a mantra splits open
the heaviness

sullen rose —
the fragrance of a god's
hidden name

plopping sounds
a tennis ball wilts
over the ditch

heat wave
countless eyes shimmer
over the court

darting
from side to side
a voyeur's eyes

tennis sounds
the increasing orbit
of interest

high noon
time itself sags
on the net

set and match
the bottom seed
fans the ball

in the racket
of steamy court battle —
a tennis elbow

a highflier
suffers two wingmen —
summer heat

tennis fever -
a third baseman asks
"who's on first?"

soft serves drip
from a thousand lips . . .
courtly love