milky moonlight
pulls heat from bone:
winter night.
Bone Cold [Haiku]
1
Category Archives: poem
Hilltop Temple [Haiku]
“The Taxi” by Amy Lowell [w/ Audio]
When I go away from you
The world beats dead
Like a slackened drum.
I call out for you against the jutted stars
And shout into the ridges of the wind.
Streets coming fast,
One after the other,
Wedge you away from me,
And the lamps of the city prick my eyes
So that I can no longer see your face.
Why should I leave you,
To wound myself upon the sharp edges of
the night?
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Coiled [Haiku]
neck coiled,
egret hovers stock still
to snap up a fish.
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Silent Autumn [Haiku]
“The Past” by Ralph Waldo Emerson [w/ Audio]
The debt is paid,
The verdict said,
The Furies laid,
The plague is stayed,
All fortunes made;
Turn the key and bolt the door,
Sweet is death forevermore.
Nor haughty hope, nor swart chagrin,
Nor murdering hate, can enter in.
All is now secure and fast;
Not the gods can shake the Past;
Flies-to the adamantine door
Bolted down forevermore.
None can re-enter there, --
No thief so politic,
No Satan with a royal trick
Steal in by window, chink, or hole,
To bind or unbind, add what lacked,
Insert a leaf, or forge a name,
New-face or finish what is packed,
Alter or mend eternal Fact.
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High Seas [Free Verse]
Rolling boat
on roiling seas:
heaving and creaking
&
pitching and listing --
Decks shifting between
untenable states,
Crew tying in,
tethering to what might
become the anchor around
their collective necks,
pulling them all to the depths -
'til the last bubble spills
upward from a nostril.
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Evolution [Free Verse]
Anywhere copies are made,
but copies aren't exact,
selection will take place.
Some erroneous copies will
be more beloved than others.
Some errors will propagate.
Some errors will die out.
Thus is language,
thus is chemistry,
and thus is life.
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Raising Chaos [Free Verse]
Raise chaos:
That's the job of intelligent life,
to make nice & orderly things
so they can crack and shatter
and eventually end up pulverized
to dust --
A fine, granular dust that will blow
across the universe.
First, the bowl must be made:
Some potter must shape and glaze
and fire it with care,
Turning sandwiches into art...
and waste heat --
entropy slow and fast.
All so someone can crack or chip it
(with ease and lack of intention,)
starting it on a path to being sand
grains a world away.
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“To a Marsh Hawk in Spring” by Henry David Thoreau [w/ Audio]
There is health in thy gray wing,
Health of nature's furnishing.
Say, thou modern-winged antique,
Was thy mistress ever sick?
In each heaving of thy wing
Thou dost health and leisure bring,
Thou dost waive disease and pain
And resume new life again.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 