spring pathos —
a poem strains against
its string of words
dewspring light
awake once more
to a once world
long white cloud . . .
how much more lonely
must we become?
with nothing
in reach, a stick insect
holds fire
 
drunken wind . . .
a willow flails
at nothingness
keeping watch
sky travellers redress
the balance
five eyes . . .
I avoid winking
at the moon
keystone cop —
impeach blossoms
litter my path
an albatross
drowns in the absence
of a before
after death
her absence fogs over
under words
a morepork
until it loses itself
calls its name
undivided
a cloud ascends
into infinity
footfall . . .
the dull thud
of waking
a spring rain
agitates the clarity
of its pooling
first light
the fall from it
all around
spring storm
my future slows down
for my shadow
theta waves
splash the plimsoll line
of my words
a haiku
without trying to be
Japanese

sharpening an end to end all war

with the birds
the words to voice
such silence
sun shower
a rain drop turns
into wine
death bed vigil . . .
his mind fingers through
beads of sweat
mist . . .
from tree to tree
an afterthought
iambic throb —
the slow black trochee
of life-blood
scented night —
a moth enters the hush
between stars
midnight stroll
beyond the back-chatter
of the universe
 
the milky way
stretches out its wingspan
of indifference
inland sea . . .
the sound of a siren
turns my head
mid night
all the stars out there 
mid way from the past
under a cloud
a beekeeper checks
each peony