May 2012

it has roots
but who would know?
lotus bloom

haiku stream ...
the endless flow
of blossoms

ancient frog ...
a haiku splashes
among ahas

darkness shrouds
over bare branches ...
autumn crow

late homework—
he cuts and pastes
web searches

snap election—
a politician harvests
platitudes

dark dark night ...
he enters the alchemy
of dreams

on her ear
her lover lost
in sunrise

full moon ...
she flashes me
her smile

nameless shapes
unfurl in river fog ...
this too has no name

perigee moon ...
the last orange
more orange

a power plant
seeding manipura rain ...
radiant spring

borrowed autumn ...
these hedgehogs rolling out
of wonderland

the making of
a beggar's banquet ...
open hands

the autumn sun
somewhere behind the smoke
of her cremation

common ground—
the dreams of the forgotten
take a break

the scatter
of autumn leaves ...
giggling child

cold morning ...
a late rose blooms
a shadow

deepening night—
the silence between
heartbeats

autumn dusk . . .
long forgotten bottles
bob in the tide

morning mist—
the nameless that haunts
my mirror

rising sun ...
my eyes straining
tea leaves


 

first date ...
she wants to swim
in my eyes

the long night ...
a monk breaks open
his silence

sepia moon ...
cuttlefish ripple
through dreams


 

enso sun—
the negative space of
a full eclipse


 

river fog ...
my hands trace out
what has gone


 

purple rain ...
casting words adrift
into God


pretending
to forget, I gasp at
a rainbow


 

hidden depths ...
a dragonfly skims
what I cannot


 

a moth sails
the widening gyre ...
candle flame


 

moonlit night ...
the mottling of goose bumps
on her thighs


 

wordless poem ...
birdsong brings relief
to my longing


 

unfolding
from a crumpled bed
this aftertaste


 

howling winds
gnash at tossing dreams ...
sea debris


 

shooting season ...
a refuge of ducks
lower their sights


 

autumn sky ...
celebrating
cloud masses


 

after the dew
sunrise ravishes
the rose


 

youthful blush ...
Oh! Celia, Celia,
Celia shits!


 

autumn love ...
moonlight silences
the rumpled bed


 

dawn maiden ...
the long day's journey
into night


spring storm ...
the river of stars
flooding her


 

fifth Sunday ...
silence wells up
in the clouds


 

greengages—
sweetness ripples
her lips


 

river fog—
he opens his poem
to silence


 

swelling clouds
brood detachedly
over death -
the life that escapes
from my every pore


 

a child places
a finger to her lips—
God whispers


Easter joy ...
even more closely
out of reach


 

perigee moon
brightly prophesying
the death of stars


autumn morn ...
light grows crisp
underfoot


 

dew drops
tracing the filaments
of dreams


 

nonchalant
the cat grooms itself ...
cesium rain


for tonight
let us all be dying ...
radiant cloud


 

by moonlight
lovers' fingers mesh
into dreams


 

forsaking pines
Ferdinand learns
something else


 

pining
for Basho ...
the pines


 

haiku school ...
mistaking the pine
for bamboo


 

out of stillness,
the fragrant piping
of heaven


on the edge—
a world of pain embraces
the universe


 

open eyes ...
may my heart pound
when day breaks


 

moonlit trail ...
he tracks the centre-line
of a Möbius strip


wounded sky ...
dawn fingers open
the night


 

passing clouds ...
still not the same ones
as yesterday


 

folding light—
my words turn in
before hers


 

wordless dirge—
reality breezes in
on a chill wind


funeral wake ...
fitting together once more
each missing piece


 

autumn dusk ...
my shadow loosens
its grip


 

autumn dusk ...
the descent of light
into its past


 

along this path
loneliness rustles
its brushstrokes


 

autumn night ...
from across the abyss
a morepork's reply


 

too personal!
this body of mine
breaking down


 

this emptiness
being filled only
with a morepork's call


 

autumn days
delirious
with rust


 

autumn dusk ...
the sun flashes off
falling leaves


 

centering himself
the laughing child in me
pisses in the snow


 

frost at dawn ...
the delicacy of light
melting dreams


 

pine harvest ...
a monk prays beneath
tonsured hills


 

bastard offspring
of cherry blossoms—
unpetalled words


 

into the shadows
of hand-written pages
autumn dusk


 

autumn path ...
the abandonment of leaves
splayed out


sudden rain ...
autumn clouds unravel
around me


cold season—
tissues masquerade
as sandpaper


 

night prayer—
some bird counterpoints
the cantor's silence


 

autumn dusk ...
light gives birth
to moons


 

incoming fog ...
through the crosshairs of love,
an albatross


 

the volcanic life lived calmly


 

Speech (paraphrased) given by Obersturmführer Franz Hössler to a group of Greek Jews in the undressing room shortly before the group was led into the gas chamber to be killed:
"On behalf of the camp administration I bid you welcome. This is not a holiday resort but a labor camp. Just as our soldiers risk their lives at the front to gain victory for the Third Reich, you will have to work here for the welfare of a new Europe. How you tackle this task is entirely up to you. The chance is there for every one of you. We shall look after your health, and we shall also offer you well-paid work. After the war we shall assess everyone according to his merits and treat him accordingly."

"Now, would you please all get undressed. Hang your clothes on the hooks we have provided and please remember your number [of the hook]. When you've had your bath there will be a bowl of soup and coffee or tea for all. Oh yes, before I forget, after your bath, please have ready your certificates, diplomas, school reports and any other documents so that we can employ everybody according to his or her training and ability."
"Would diabetics who are not allowed sugar report to staff on duty after their baths".

Zyklon-B ...
and yet the sound of water
through the night