looking down from blue skies and sparse clouds my next look up the ceiling has lowered and rain is on its way
The Perils of Watching One’s Step [Tanka]
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Tag Archives: poetry
Evergreen Lullaby [Tanka]
evergreens -- their pointy tips sway with wind gusts, and the swishy sound sooths my drifting mind
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Painted World [Haibun]
The river glides like a glassy sheet. It seems to steam, but it's just fog forming over the frigid water that is nevertheless a reservoir of heat compared to the freezing air above. The fog erases the sharp edges that make the world seem real -- neither painting nor figment. The far shore is a brush-dabbed fiction... and I may be, also. The early morning cold affects my brain in the same manner that the fog influences the scene. river fog makes the cold morning a painted scene
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Wet Winter [Haibun]
The clouds hang gray this mid-winter day, while streets glisten with the watery sheen of rains that never break for long. Wheels roll through, throwing the water into a swish-slosh song. All seems clean, if perpetually dreary. The air looks clear, though some funk clings to one's shoulders as one walks through town, and every scent is compressed in intensity at street level. streets glisten, the city slick from rains that linger
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Life Amid a Winter Scene [Haibun]
The forest is silent, and winter has painted the woods in earthen hues. Bare black loam is spottily strewn with beige to brown leaves -- dried to a curl and crunch that's almost crumbling. If any animals are moving, it's only at the eyes. There're no skittering feet, no frantic digging, no chirped warnings, and no explosive attempts to flee. Then, at the base of a downed log, there's a lively scene of vibrant green moss and tender, burnished-orange fungi caps. winter forest -- all seems dead or dormant, but one tender scene
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POEM: Information Age Ailment
Screaming streams of information pelt all corners of the mind. Neurons are constantly flickering with flinches. Meanwhile, the body whispers its secrets in the hushed tones of a prayer uttered during a shootout.
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Dead Leaf Mantis [Haibun]
This mantis pulls off the dead leaf look. Its abdomen mimics a leaf - desiccated and rolled up upon itself. A barber-sign slant spiral of veins add the perfect touch. Even once one notices the six thin legs, legs invisible to all but a piercing, hunched-over stare, there remains a period during which it is more acceptable to the mind to think of it as twiggy leaves than as an insect. Amid a litter of dead leaves, I'm sure my eyes would never land on this skinny bug, but even on a rocky outcrop that's perpetually swept bare by way of the breezes that whip and wrap around the mountain, it still seems more leaf than bug. a dead leaf mantis, standing in an unlikely place, yet my mind screams, "Leaf!"
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Subconscious [Haibun]
Couriers carry communiques from town to town in the country of me. These secret messages are unprojected, but couriers sometimes sneak peeks. Then, a summary can be read in an expression - a precis that could elsewise not be divined. An expression read from aspect of eye is a hint, and is as reliable as any hint -- which is to say, not very. A hint is subject to misinterpretation. It presupposes a common language, a lingua franca that doesn't exist because one side has no language and the other is afflicted by the arrogant assumption that all things are understood via language. shooting signals snap through the unmapped spaces of my mind
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Sunflowers [Haiku]
sunflower field, stretching to muted hills, smiling warmly
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Sunrise in the Karst Labyrinth [Haibun]
The sun rises; its fiery form flares in the slit between monsoon skies and rocky monoliths. The crazy array of karsts, pillars, and islets block this bright amber flash from most angles, but here the light aligns with eye. A golden walk painted on the rippled surface stretches to the boat's bow. A thousand boats won't see this rising fire, but this one did, this one time. the sun squints beneath thick clouds, painting a line to us
