Childhood futureReaping the rich harvest of last month's departure to the narrow road to the deep north of my memories, I continue my journey through August into the deeper interior that is always with me.

This image is what I looked out to every day of my childhood.  It is an accurate portrayal of the hazy future that always tugged at me.

 

 

 

 


not this tree, no! 
here the abstract shadow
of winter trees
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my daughter 
has them too
eyes piercing blue
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in winter wind
all that's left of me
escapes me
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finger-felt
what the pine
had to teach
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traced in the wind
the trails of my daughter's
autistic bent
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i.m. Jane Reichhold
 
filling in
between fragment and phrase
an empty space
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it unfolds
from its grip of green
what it always was
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between breaths
I bear the likeness still
of what the mist conceals
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turning a new leaf
I rewrite my steps away
from the Basho
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this moon
ah this moon
and this . . .
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not yet dead
a novelist adjusts
his dustjacket
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after rain
soundlessness rises
from the leaves
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black sea-shore
my homage overspent
in the west
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bobbing through dreams too
a refined savagery
that seem to be words
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dawn drizzle
in a delicacy
of light
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one haiku
is never enough . . .
winter rain
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signs of spring . . .
seedlings coil tightly
down under
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morning dew
sacred once more
everything
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with this word
then this
the ever-before
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nothing 
pleases me 
more
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just like that
a post-war ploughshare
in the flesh
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then too
forever now
out of mind
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divining reality
a bayleaf falls
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bleak stillness
a wave beaches
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waning moon –
this failure to let go
of language
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spring creepers –
once again death swept
under the carpet
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only a hush this pervasive

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divine silence –
cross-hair of words strained
between stars
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darkness breasting 
unassailable 
sea
sons
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unseasonal words –
earth becomes seized by
its climacteric
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the long silence –
tell-tale signs hand-palm
my meninges
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stillness
snatched from the beak
of a hummingbird
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with the wind
images of old friends
birds and clouds
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when I name it
what is it you see?
your absence
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bleeding out
from my own shadow
my anima
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last embers –
light swaying between
me and not-me
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winter ends –
I am slowly weathered
into whiteness
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cold war –
will and want shadowed
on the walls
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an apple
drawn and quartered
in my genes
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 preamble to a eulogy
 
preamble
to a eulogy
winter rain
::
win
ter
rain
 
a loss
of breath
in
 
when words 
fail
::
out
of breath
 
i am
not i
cing
 
my hymn
of praise
 
 
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preamble to a eulogy

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filling in
between fragment and phrase
an empty space

 
 
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