In villages and on farms
Old ones lay themselves down
So their grandchildren
Can eat a little more rice,
Have a little more warmth.
Month: September 2014
Addendum to a War
Huck Finn scouted for Sheridan,
Tom Sawyer piloted steamboats
For the South. Neither survived,
Neither is marked by a stone.
They’ll not appear in words again.
Only river smoke and bird song
Recalls what they did as men.
Squirrel Haiku
A fat squirrel shakes figs
Off a tree by the window
Scowling cats watch from.
Elderly Chinese Couple Exercising in the Park
In a hidden glen they mimic
Waking swan and soaring wren,
Slowly raise their arms to bright
New coins in the treetops.
Each day they eat less,
Take less room and trudge
Together tenderly as if lost
In a high pavilion garden
Where a thousand flowers bloom.
Drought Haiku 2
The rain gods tease us
With hardly even enough
For washing my car.
Jewelry Maker
One drop of garnet
Goes on another;
Her hands flutter
As around a harp
Picking at the notes
Of my heart hanging
On invisible strings.
Forecast
Even a promise
Of rain brings delight
And a longing
To hear water whisper
To leaves late at night.
Fall Haiku
By the sea, hillsides
Dotted with paper lanterns
Glowing deep orange.
INTENSIVE CARE NURSE
Lilting of Kildare, Cork or Kilarney,
She says to lie oh so still oh;
(still as death, glad as a babe, o lucky me)
Hugs my face to her bosom tightly
As she drags a sensor firm and slow
Across my chest to sound and chart
A derelict heart full fathom five below.
Even my mother’s tired sighs
Can be heard down there still,
As she grudges a life to her son;
No, there are no lullabies;
A child herself, she never sang.
Now, all I desire is this Irish rose to sing —
By the Rising of the Moon, O Danny Boy,
Cole Porter, an ad jingle, any damned thing!
Your smile, your voice could forever cure this heart
but as you leave, I can only say, “Erin go bragh.”
Winter Haiku
On a hoarfrost night
Dark houses along the tracks
One window bears light.
NORTH TOWER
They lean and stretch out of long
narrow windows never meant to open;
into the morning they reach out
as if hanging wash or gossiping
floor to floor with neighbors or
watching for parades of victory
to cheer above and throw confetti.
Some will stay but most will go;
pirouette, tumble or jack knife
joining hands or just solo,
dive into this sweet coolness
of summer turning fall.
Yard Sale
I sold my Sunbeam Rapier
The stubby little convertible
I’ve had since nineteen sixty
Something and an orgasm lamp
And Fillmore posters
Records of all sorts…
What else can you do
With cats to support?
Working at Home
Window installers tear out
Old window frames with ganas
And the whole day they do that
I’m on a sofa wooing electrons
On the cybernetic mist.
Their work is warranted for years.
Mine vanishes before it exists.
My Youngest, My Sweetest
My posse lost your tracks in the Sadlands
We could not pursue you through mirrors
And ever diminishing doors you slammed.
All I dream of is rushing, arms out wide,
Across a playground to catch you at the bottom
Of a tall crooked slide I just looked away from.
Star-Crossed
Once we circled each other,
You and I, a double star
Attracting comets and moons
And lesser planets.
Now, we do not share gravity.
Our orbits go in other spheres
Rich in new worlds, new suns
Blooming from the old amity.
Independence
If my aunt had her wishes
My cats would dust her home
Wash the car she never drives
Do her dishes and polish silver
She hasn’t used since 1965.
My kits thank me for taking
All the flak, “Just keep that old
Slave driver off our backs!”
The Jet Set
Tree Swallow banking
through a rush of windy current
nature’s blue chrome jet
Juicing
Spinach, celery, kale
Cucumber, ginger, lemon
And any fruit on sale
Goes all into my juicer
And comes out in the loo
As polychromatic poo.
Sutra
All around and flowing within us
The heart’s blood of waking buddhas
Who open their eyes laughing
Having dreamt we are glasses of water
Deep in wondrous, rhythmic seas.
‘Five Minutes’ (a response to Wallace Stevens’ ‘The Emperor of Ice Cream’)
here’s one I wish I wrote…
Five Minutes
Don’t put me in the ground just yet, I beg you
Let me revel in my five short minutes of fame
Give them a moment to speak my name
And remember what little thing they loved best.
They caked my face in youth, so don’t turn away
Before they close the lid, lay your eyes on me
For this is the one time I will not age, you see
Soon you’ll forget how I looked when I could breathe.
Refer to all my faults in the present tense
Don’t summarise or bathe me in sentimentality
That turns me into the stuff of hazy memory
But in brutal truths I can live forever.
Pity flowers ensure my door is at its darkest.
To turn up draped in black and sympathy
Just mocks my absence from the party
Honour me who laughed loudest, but not last!
Remember this day like…
View original post 60 more words
