October 2015

all black scrum—
the darkness within
in three lines
a mud crab
digging in deeper . . .
tidal shift
spring twilight—
prayer germinates
in silence 
green light—
who am I
in spring?
whisper breath—
I am who I am
candle flame
spring water—
I reflect within
the without
mist shapes 
an ontological 
deepening dusk— 
the devil escapes
the details
darkening words— 
a frog croaks in the sound
of itself
a helicopter
crystallises into sound
from the blueness
rising light— 
clouds effervesce along
day's plimsoll line
crescent moon
a smile of benevolence
goes awry
grey matter 
on an intercept course
between seer and seen
after a spent day
words sink back into the slime
of their origin
deep prayer
spring water rises
the stillness
after the birth
unravelling star charts
All Soul's Day
the combatants tally up
their losses
cancer ward
nothing imagined now
is not the moon
in memory of H. Gene Murtha 
star gazing—
the emptiness
of it all
fallow ground—
harrowing the hell
of being
twilight walk—
a pregnant girl praises me 
for going barefoot
womb-dead words—
'mama' and 'tata'
missing still
Bashō and the Sound of Water
Midway on the way he was bound upon, Bashō was seized by a restless spirit that coaxed him into the heartland, where poetry and spirituality become one, and where he could follow the footfall of the ancients through Japan's poetic spaces.  He yielded to the seductive sound of pond ripples lapping the mysterious edge of the dreadful sphere of Pascal.
Well over three hundred years after Dante, Bashō looked to wanderer-priest Saigyō to be the Virgil who would inspire him through the narrow and difficult roads that wound ahead and within. Landscapes, through which he wandered, became infused with collective memory and complex emotions encompassing the profane right through to the sacred, and culminating in true vision as he beheld Sado Island.
Some years later, he wrote several autumn haiku infused with a despair born of an overwhelming loneliness. Falling ill on his final journey, his spirit feverishly searched a desolate limbo for what may have been his Beatrice and the love which moves the sun and the other stars.
The need to hear the sound beyond stillness drives all our journeying, and is its fulfilment. 
my lungs widen
with stars
on edge
fantails atwitter
stride the blast
waxing crescent—
the earth-borne fresh-faced
their song primal
my lungs widen
with stars
earth stump—
shadows spiral down 
its yesterdays
mass exodus
the sacrificial lamb
hidden away
stringing words
in a sing-song
of becoming
distant spring—
a sixtieth candle
still unlit
by cloud light
a nuclear family
shadows the wall
rising or falling?
the intonation of all
these questions
between her fingers
a war reddens
remaking haiku
in creation's own image
and likeness
in spring rain
the depth of reflection
that passes for me
in spring rain
the distance once so near
now so far
in spring rain
mockery of the drought
still to come
deep-sea moon—
labyrinthine is
the kingdom
spring kigo . . .
and I dotting 'i's
crossing 't's
in spring rain
scarlet runner beans
crack the surface
my spring into
in a process of 
over primal seas
heaven hound
te po
here I breathe
your last
out of season
autumnal haiku
from abroad
climate change— 
a tuatara through
its third eye
something moves with darkness fresh green
planting fruit of the earth human hands
remember man the dust in we sprang
in blossom born butterflies
nothing so near lushness of now
ground dark the end begin
amid lushness
an idle idea 
of order
is that it?
an overdone show
of words

days overcast beyond their reach

earth-breaking seed— 
an after-scent
of extinction
5 7 5 . . .
an ocean of sound 
ebbs and flows 
and ebbs once more
just now
and now again
signs of life
fallen night—
Adam peels the apple
of his eye
voice and word
the sparks
silent as a gun
sparrows twitter from the brim
of a scarecrow's hat
with wayward eyes
his won't stiffens
its resolve
a heartbroken suit
fills in the full flush
of its youth
in my imagination
the husk in her voice
haiku wars
staccato moments
litter the floor
in the produce aisle
a young mom applauds
my bare feet
the stillness
after the birth
unravelling star charts
crescent moon
a smile of benevolence
goes awry