the egret turns as if to spurn its cow, but it'll be back
Cow & Egret [Haiku]
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Tag Archives: poem
Still River [Haiku]
Fleeting Blue [Haiku]
a splotch of blue catches my eye, i look and it flits away
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Poetry on the Cob [Free Verse]
People sometimes tell me they have trouble understanding poetry. That's because they consume it as they would a banana, starting at one end and chomping down to the other. Poetry has to be consumed like corn on the cob. One should start at one end and work down to the other, but then one has to go back to the beginning -- change one's angle of perspective -- and - again - go from one end to the other. I can't emphasize this point about changing one's angle of perspective enough. There is a difference: with corn on the cob, one rotates the corn, but, with poetry, one has to rotate something within the reader. Otherwise, one is just chomping into an empty rut - a track devoid of sustenance. Then, one has to repeat the process until every last morsel has been consumed. That's how one ingests poetry.
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The World Below [Haiku]
the pond reflects tiny things, yet makes the world feel infinite
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Light on Moss [Haiku]
morning light catches the moss, and i see it for the first time
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The Raging River of Human Nature [Free Verse]
Human nature is a raging river which a few shitty sandbags of common sense will not detour. Some people stand on the bank and shout at the river. I will admit, I've done the same. But those words neither soak in nor bounce off that raging river -- they're made silent, dying in air. Some people try to steer the river by splashing at the lapping waters near its edge, But none of them is Moses, not one can dam a river by force of will. And - even if one could -- eventually, that person would have to let go, leaving a backed up and angry river to rage onward.
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Pollen [Haiku]
tiny tousled stalks release a pollen plume hush: here; hush: gone
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Mud [Kyōka]
the mud patterns carved in the tidal zone beat any work of art by Andy Warhol
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Suicide Slide [Free Verse]
One burning moment -- taffy-stretched to the edge of reason: stretched so broadly that one can't fathom escape - like Monkey on the Buddha's palm One burning idea -- cloned, and then carved to make infinite variants, and painted infinite shades: the dark tone of each darker than the last Burning ideas populating the vast expanse of a burning moment, until the urge to escape insists that one carve a hatch into living tissue But what is it that does the stretching of the burning moment & the cloning of the burning idea? Can't that stretcher and cloner be wound back, scaling all to proper proportions? And can't it be done before that terminal instant is carved in jagged stone?
