April 2016

unseen trees seed the dark

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a moth enters my waiting

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word-spent
the womb-held absolute
womb-held

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without cause
the sound of water . . .
just the words

 

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autumn wind
deepening the sound of
an empty bottle

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before leaf shed the plumage light retains

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in a mosquito's buzz
the strand of my thoughts
pierces hers

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burnt haiku
escape their failings
as they rise

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star-struck night –
on earth the light shed
to banish them

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loneliness nestles into listening

 

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ancient wisdom –
helplessly age succumbs
to extinction

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a battered butterfly stalks dead blooms

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tonight's moon
and something new
under the sun

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mountain fog –
an aberrant will
forking paths

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a feijoa's sublime nymphomania of words

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angelus bell –
the flesh tone
of my limits

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dew-fall night without the moon

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moonless night –
spiders search out
for my heart

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in silence
a new moon's
echolalia

 

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a tomcat
trots out unseasonal references
at the witching hour

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cherry blossoms –
a cool cat reformulates
the familiar

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in a rut
a haiku caterwauls
for its mate

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autumn sea –
a Maui's dolphin skirts
the sixth extinction

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season of fog
and mould'ring fruitfulness . . .
what sound my song now?

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skylark song
gone now – a bird
unburdened

 

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morning fog
I feel my way through
past, present or future

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fog-bound
light takes on
an overtone
of words

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morning mass –
light presses down
as manna

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light relief from dawn to dusk

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rustic moon –
my hidden self leaves
the city

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the moon
within a sliver
of shadow

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moon charmed
the Kaipara harbours
God's presence

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a butterfly
not a leaf left
by the wind

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turbulent mist—
all that is to become
lost in becoming

 

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