July 2014

Learning Connection
Haiku! I had heard of her. An inscrutable touchstone of feeling tucked away among foreign habits. We became intimate once introduced one whisky-worded night under the moon.  Over the course of a few intervening years, I behold more and more of her as she sheds for me the silken veils of her captors.
I do not mind her present promiscuity.  That is only to be expected after her centuries of confinement behind bamboo curtains.  Honour-bent men restrained her wild spirit by sublimating it into an aesthetic of tightness.  Mere suggestions of the blood-fury seething within.
The muse, so long hidden away, teases words from my reluctant voice to give shape to the silence and the darkness drowning in the present age.
these words
a peninsula
of almosts
over origins
on ice
a fantail

left haiku with backspaces

.floating point between coming and going.

in this light
just the meniscus
of a moon-drop
a residue
of anythingness
pinioned here
heavy haiku
brains bashed in 
between the lines
the silences 
are words enough?
letters twisting
this word
then another
bird song
and we make words
about it
sweaty days
the meat in the sandwich
my daily bread
leaf rattle
moments later
golden arches
the blood brotherhood
of childhood streams
eye contact
made in passing
words also seek
across the gulf
a connection of eyes
. . . alone
these words
a peninsula
of almosts
the poem
still not written
goes like this . . .
at dawn
my mind patrols
my borders

all of me becomes morning fog

oversteps the smear
of a dream
a birthcry
mapping the disposition
of stars
animal farm . . .
a fat sow gorges
on her runts
hey buddy!
I am too old
for cannon fodder

step by step
my shadow anchors me
to the earth


winter rain—
familiar spirits
haunt my words