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bulletcookie May 2018
kites fly, fall, legs run
brothers fly, fall, shadows long
iced strings hang on trees

-cec
currently reading "The Kite Runner" with a high school freshman class and writing Haiku as an exercise in poetry forms. This fell out in a moment of concentration while they were writing their own.  The title is from a Nietzschean aphorism admonishing against fighting monsters lest you become what they are.
"He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you." - F. Nietzsche
bulletcookie May 2018
scent of cut grass lingers after mowing
having met blade, blade having met rock
white petals, on dark plum branches, glow
an indecisive sun, aloof, among drifting grey clouds
filtering greens, shadows, red-black tulips
a dusty swept worm, woken from its crevice dirt, cowers
nature readies to explode in long thin seed-pods
to eject tiny capsules holding all possibility

-cec
bulletcookie Apr 2018
A rat stood on his hinds, in grass
between sidewalk and street,
gazing up with one eye it asked:
"Should I run? Stay here, delay
and sacrifice my final breath to you?"

Surprised at this spectacle of nature
one can only think that it was sick
or stricken by fear at this chance encounter
though something in that static eye spoke
of many lives over millions of years.

Moving on, it stared at this passing
as though it was meant to happen
forever in just this way with little fanfare
and no interruption of the moment
as two fixed as one endured recognition.

-cec
bulletcookie Apr 2018
I hear a dog whistle in my tin-ear
higher in that morning wake up listen
followed by some sleeping memories spent
to spark life back into bed bode on bier
head up leads first spinal twist-spin leg's weir
feet on this floor balance grav'ties decent
trunk set motion pivots towards day's ascent
close pass window to view, to shape, to hear

there on tree tips chick'dees flit-fly blithely
rain drops para-****** atop old smoke
starlings fidget to worm's earthly writhing
legions' insect swarm free onto blossoms
dandelion yellow peak out of sight
as this morning trundles spring tides rise

-cec
bulletcookie Apr 2018
pink, purple, greens, white
fragrances coil eves whisper
Spring wears its perfume

-cec
bulletcookie Feb 2018
"Will you walk into my parlor?, said the Spider to the Fly ..." **
"I want to listen ...I hear you" arachnid's tactic sly
The fly, furious of all the carnage, complained
telling of fallen family and inexperienced friends
now desiccated, wrapped in silken shrouded end

The Spider listened patiently, as spiders often do
and lent its stoic eyes for each escape, maroon
while thoughts of chains, gears and echoed screams
served as mental appetizers to a growing hunger swoon
as wet saliva moments stayed his craven dreams

Soon Fly was shifting silent having said all that it could
hairs upon its body augured danger in this hood
closely watching Spider and knowing of his brood
chose to hover near to exit from this room
so defied this spider's web to seek a greater good

Now this Spider still it waits for unsuspecting game
its nature and demeanor belts a greedy gut and fame
sequestered in its isolated ravages, reprobative mind
as its silken lies trace traps in this ancient worst of times
heed this breeze that frames its doors to unrepentant doom

-cec
**The Spider and the Fly by Mary Howitt (1799–1888), published in 1828
bulletcookie Feb 2018
waters bend shoreline
under billowing clouds
mirrored blind white, groping
wrapping around mountain trees
drifting in dusk's catnap

-cec
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