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
breath-mist
over origins
on ice
a fantail
tattletaling
shadows

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
between 
the silences 
are words enough?
listen!
letters twisting
silent
this word
then another
anew
bird song
and we make words
about it
sweaty days
the meat in the sandwich
my daily bread
leaf rattle
moments later
another
golden arches
the blood brotherhood
of childhood streams
eye contact
made in passing
words also seek
connections
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