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
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breath-mist
over origins
on ice
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a fantail
tattletaling
shadows
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left haiku with backspaces

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.floating point between coming and going.

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

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dawn
oversteps the smear
of a dream
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a birthcry
mapping the disposition
of stars
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animal farm . . .
a fat sow gorges
on her runts
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hey buddy!
I am too old
for cannon fodder
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step by step
my shadow anchors me
to the earth

 

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winter rain—
familiar spirits
haunt my words

 

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