pulling the weeds
the layman, cursing
the heat
~
the monk, wiping
his brow
says a prayer
~
the master
pulling the weeds
~
together
in a field
under the sun
~
piece of paper
written on, crumpled up
poems in my shoe
~
sun in the soil
reflective face
quartz in the bank
~
shaking hands
church-goers
step into the street
~
Philadelphia
birds on a stoop
brothers
~
in the library
every sound echoing
~
low orange clouds
city at night
~
noticing my mind
tripping off the curb
~
stale taste
spliff
gone from where I left it
~
my Grandfather's friends
explaining absinthe
as I drink it
~
broken tea cup
how I love to look at it!
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
Everything we see is
it’s pristine essence
casting the same light
from the womb of darkness.
Gripped by the dolor of a glaucous sky,
love's longing reminds us
that nothing is ever truly lost
to anything less
than the visual acuity of a heart.
Unseen signs never give up
their quest for being seen.
With a slight tilt of the head,
the light of the heart changes...
and so does everything,
everything.
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 12:00 AM UTC
.
Man has wheels,
Books and machines,
Birds have better means,
Sing as they fly.
Man has culture,
Laws and slight reason,
Beast lives for all season,
A life without lie.
Man has fashion,
Art, music, daze galore,
Flower is supreme colour,
Ferociously alive.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
Sometimes words just can't say what you feel
And the most beautiful poetry is
the tears sliding down your cheeks
the memory of being too small to understand anything but a smile
holding someone's hand for the first time
the pain no one can really put into words, when you lose the most important person in the world
The daydreams and nightdreams and everything else inbetween
And knowing you are loved
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
7 Pieces of Heaven ( haiku | senryu )
1
windfallen
Instant lovers join—
In her bohemian flat,
The breadth of heaven.
2
bright winter
Sun beams in finery . . .
Heaven and earth enthroned,
White sky, white mountains.
3
mirroring
Under azure skies—
Fuzz of bees and lavender,
Blue REM's of heaven.
4
ephemera
Doomed bright innocence,
Vibrating sirens of youth,
. . . Bodies of Heaven.
5
testament
Autumn leaves falling,
Trees burn stories of the sun—
Pages from heaven.
6
annunciation
Wind through pine needles,
Humm . . . of iridescent birds,
Whispers from heaven.
7
unfolding
White of sky blooming—
Little clouds from heaven fall,
Snow geese land on lake.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
With fingertips
I touch your forehead
my hands bless your head
my heart accepts you for life.
I vow to love you
as I have loved my son.
Welcome home, my daughter.
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
I gathered it all up into a ball
and threw it into space
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
In passing with my mind
on nothing in the world
but the right of way
I enjoy on the road by
virtue of the law—
I saw
an elderly man who
smiled and looked away
to the north past a house—
a woman in blue
who was laughing and
leaning forward to look up
into the man’s half
averted face
and a boy of eight who was
looking at the middle of
the man’s belly
at a watchchain—
The supreme importance
of this nameless spectacle
sped me by them
without a word—
Why bother where I went?
for I went spinning on the
four wheels of my car
along the wet road until
I saw a girl with one leg
over the rail of a balcony
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:57 PM UTC
Drinking my tea
Without sugar-
No difference.
The sparrow *****
upside down
--ah! my brain & eggs
Mayan head in a
Pacific driftwood bole
--Someday I'll live in N.Y.
Looking over my shoulder
my behind was covered
with cherry blossoms.
Winter Haiku
I didn't know the names
of the flowers--now
my garden is gone.
I slapped the mosquito
and missed.
What made me do that?
Reading haiku
I am unhappy,
longing for the Nameless.
A frog floating
in the drugstore jar:
summer rain on grey pavements.
(after Shiki)
On the porch
in my shorts;
auto lights in the rain.
Another year
has past-the world
is no different.
The first thing I looked for
in my old garden was
The Cherry Tree.
My old desk:
the first thing I looked for
in my house.
My early journal:
the first thing I found
in my old desk.
My mother's ghost:
the first thing I found
in the living room.
I quit shaving
but the eyes that glanced at me
remained in the mirror.
The madman
emerges from the movies:
the street at lunchtime.
Cities of boys
are in their graves,
and in this town...
Lying on my side
in the void:
the breath in my nose.
On the fifteenth floor
the dog chews a bone-
Screech of taxicabs.
A hardon in New York,
a boy
in San Fransisco.
The moon over the roof,
worms in the garden.
I rent this house.
[Haiku composed in the backyard cottage at 1624
Milvia Street, Berkeley 1955, while reading R.H.
Blyth's 4 volumes, "Haiku."]
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
i will wade out
till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
Alive
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
Will i complete the mystery
of my flesh
I will rise
After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
And set my teeth in the silver of the moon
Dec 28, 2014
Dec 28, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC