July 2015

with a start
the first haiku
of the month
that above!
is that the limit
of dreams?
summer dreams:
all that remains
not yet grey
her slip ...
the susurrus 
of her lips
Cold
 
 
cold snap
what's left of warmth
in embers 
 
oh! the words that do escape
hang too long in the air
 
left over
from far brighter days
an apple core
 
deeper into winter
the heat pump hums for me
 
ordinary time:
I bite into the death
that sustains me
writing
into a winter night
headless chickens
drone whine:
is this too
a song?
slug slime
the daily examen
of my path
losing flavour
all the salt licked
from my wounds
all the trees 
tucking elegies
into dark wings
so few words
how much of all this
can they take?
the silence:
school bells tolling 
early death
more than one
nail holes hammered through
tree shadows
a bell tolls
in sympathy
with its age
climate change
a butterfly
somewhere
a haiku yet
after successive
resoundings
her sari
coiling the wormhole
of our origin
frost after noon
the scent of otherness
closes around
what is this
that seeps through the gaps
in the chant?
baby babble . . .
neon words crawl across
an urban sprawl
screw loose sir?
a hooker's invitation
into madness
silver-tongued dawn
a  hatchling opens its eyes
to the world's edge
dead-end street
autumn and winter
face to face
first quarter
moons bud-swelling
her blouse
exposing
layer on layer
old sea levels
rebel yell
Groucho dusts off
his manifesto
word by word
a new beginning
with each sound
 
earth shadow
a swinging voter
darkens the poll
encircling me
the hiss
of her eyes
sky map app
I end the universe
with a swipe
raid 0
the all or nothing
of our love
waxing moon
harsh reality
loses its edge
plum tree
what is your status
today?
in amber
the lifeless comfort
of the familiar

dilute haiku for the masses

denatured wilderness

slowpoke sun
time's after-shadow
so still
all at once
this pale blue dot
at its end.
winter shelter . . .
plaiting vowels and consonants
against the silence
dulled blood lines
'the first cut is the deepest'
I tell her
future perfect —
a white coffin cradling 
his birth cry
fog breath
a patina of me
back at me
first love
I enter her taste
of pears
poet's bridge
light making light
of the other
neverness —
light-melt
in candle tears
age-old aches
silence rolled into stone
here is light
'yes' he exclaims
at the very end of
the verbal bloom
neck shivers!
the sound of a haiku
as it leaves the page
new moon
a noumenonal
becoming
sighing pines
this chill wind also
has no home
word by word
drippling onto
the void
fire forks 
in tongues
of prayer
polar ice-melt
the Atlantic's urge to lap
Wall Street's banks
star-still night
in zenith meditation
a monk's eyes
 
half-moon
abuser and abused
as one
stillness!
the staccato
of white noise
misty moon
a swan lake cowed
by silence
dream river
a hush enters
the stage
low tide
the endless sighing
of the pines
gibbous moon
the hippo awake
a sheep no more
skeining words
a smile ping pongs
from eye to eye
dream dance
the partners hanging
on a participle
elastic dreams
old crones stretch out
the fate of words
night terror
Jung awake parses
archetypes
novel twist
Ivan contemplates
a parricide
Venus in bone
Oedipus on the move
with his platypus
withered land
an insomniac erases
the slate
dark matter
the background resonance
of our song
that rhythm!
do I hear the silence
of cicadas?
tidal flats
I hear the heartbeat
of my thoughts
listen!
the sound of sleep
from Elsinore
coolness!
beginnings erupt
from my end
day-fall —
the rat-a-tat-chat
of otherness
between our words
we sip eternity
. . . so ordinary!

my ears race to the silence at the end of the line

at dead low water
in coming and in going
commit coincide
spring
in the wings —
earth wake
last of us
under a full moon
winter rain
once in a . . .
clear water drips
into wine
haiku 
fast becoming
the last refuge
of the literary word
raw emotion:
over mass extinction
the milky way
free of fog
tree image becomes
a tree
sound of rain —
left and right of me
the not me
deathly still —
against a cloudless sky
a leafless tree
today the sky
cheerless 
being clear 
lost in light
a trout swirl mid-stream
ends the tale
hill folds
as if defined
by fog
wading girl
a comet keeps pace
for her