Mad Saints, Poets, & Lovers

In the ecstatic madness
sits a different kind of bliss
so untethered that you drift
far from the familiar.

There is no cord unwinding
to snap you into place,
and you may float into
and out of 
your original face.

And when one stands screaming,
unwilling to be shooshed -
naked as a J-bird -
immune to being rushed,
you may find a freedom
that would terrify the rest:
the homeless kind of freedom
of the sanity dispossessed.

Ghost Army [Haibun]

Thick clouds scrape over the ridge. In the foreground, sun-fired sands shine brightly, but the mountain behind has fallen dark, as if it's being marched over by the waves of a ghost army -- formless battalions that block the light. When that marching army reaches the nearer mountain, it will neither stop nor slow, but will crawl overland, coming ever nearer.


the fore mountain shines,
even as a ghost army
closes from behind

Double Rainbow [Haibun]

Subsequent ridges fade into shapes, darker and less distinct. The farther down the lake one looks, the lower the clouds hang, until they obscure all trace of the apparent infinity of ridges. In front of the one sun-warmed wall of mountain, two rainbows arch skyward, disappearing into the clouds. One is a weak echo of the other. My Irish mind imagines the arc-segments are full semi-circles -- pot-o-gold, and all that. But the weak one seems to quit before it even reaches the cloud, and thus makes me wonder if rainbows are real, and - if they are - is the weak one as real as the bright one.


double rainbow
arches up from the lake,
stoking pondering

Labyrinthine Lake [Haibun]

Patches of grassy land stand above the water. They lop up the lake into a labyrinth of passageways. Even in a shallow draft canoe, one can often see past the phumdi grass, but still one must know the tiny isles or be trapped among them.

a narrow boat
silently glides between
floating islands