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Dec 2023 · 756
haiku no. 148
Christian Bixler Dec 2023
pale gate
in darkness
the hanging lamp
Dec 2023 · 598
haiku no. 147
Christian Bixler Dec 2023
dim hallway
alone the hanging lamp
floats
Jun 2022 · 937
haiku no. 146
Christian Bixler Jun 2022
yellow sky
the winter grass
deepens
I wrote this as a draft last year, then forgot about it. After review it looks like it holds up.
Christian Bixler May 2022
Envy
how I hate it
It makes me want to **** a man for
dreaming, for asking me to dream.
What use is it, what use have you
in dreaming, in presuming
that I am not in my very essence
capable only of glimpsing the edges
the light-limned outline of the door
leading forward
and falling back again.
I'm too tired to edit.
May 2022 · 713
loneliness
Christian Bixler May 2022
The bar of soap
smooth and curved as old driftwood
it is familiar to me.
Precious to me.
All of its shape and all of its use
is my own.
And with each use
it lessens and grows
in my heart.
When it is gone
I will open a drawer
and a new bar will sit
where it sits
and eventually I will forget
I ever loved it
and the whole thing will begin again.
Apr 2022 · 659
haibun no. 2
Christian Bixler Apr 2022
Every time I begin to clean with a magic eraser I feel sad, because of the pure white and clean lines soon to be smudged and torn apart. I console myself with it's function, the beauty of it's usefulness; but still.

on my fingertips
the small noises
of a still night
Mar 2022 · 1.1k
haiku no. 145
Christian Bixler Mar 2022
how rare
the warmth of afternoon turns
on my skin
Thank you for reading. Recently I’ve decided to work seriously on my poetry, on haiku in particular, so you can expect more regular posts. Also there may be a personal website in the future. If there is I’ll link it here. Thanks again!
Dec 2021 · 616
haiku no. 144
Christian Bixler Dec 2021
for awhile
the rain-washed limb
glows
Nov 2021 · 1.1k
To the Sound of Pipes
Christian Bixler Nov 2021
There is a quality to desolation
that I have never seen.

I have been in a desert, touched
the aridity of it’s soil, and its
air like hot feathers
on my breath;
I have seen the sea far out
with only a blue smudge on
the horizon
to mark our return.
But I have never felt that terror,
that awe and loneliness
that has been spoken of,
and said by the poets
and deliverers,
to bring ones face
to God.

Do not misunderstand me.
I have felt these things;
at the end of a trail
leading nowhere,
on a *****
with loose stones
for footholds.
I have been in places of terror
and beauty,
and been overthrown.
But not wholly.

Perhaps
I have not been still
enough, have not lingered
in those part-wild places
that have seen the summit
of my fear, my longing.
Perhaps even they, even
they, have what I seek.

Perhaps
I have not been still
enough.
https://youtu.be/YQQAsEEZorQ
Oct 2021 · 608
haiku no. 143
Christian Bixler Oct 2021
fungal bloom
hidden beneath is
its source
Jul 2021 · 320
Blurred Lines
Christian Bixler Jul 2021
Clouds streak the
setting sun’s radiance,
like waves, like feathers
bowing leftward. A soft
rain falls, a breeze blows
gently from the west.
And from me the sound
of pipes, of words and
exultation, lamentation.
It is in me that the sunset
is exulted. It is in me that
the border of the blue and
purple is seen, the amber
of the center. Around me
the gloaming is falling.
I see, and am whole. I live,
and am not fractured.
This is evening.
This is evening.
May 2021 · 276
senryu no. 3
Christian Bixler May 2021
vanishing tail
after three the rock
goes with it
May 2021 · 637
haiku no. 142
Christian Bixler May 2021
scuttling tail
the rock falls
into place
Mar 2021 · 283
senryu no. 2
Christian Bixler Mar 2021
white petals
now the clouds have
competition
Mar 2021 · 792
haiku no. 141
Christian Bixler Mar 2021
blink
white petals are drifting
between clouds
Nov 2020 · 155
Honesty
Christian Bixler Nov 2020
At times, in my
yet brief,
and ordinary life,
I have felt
wholly,
that all that there is
to anything
is inertia;
a reaction
that begun, ends: and
all I have felt
of beauty
is but the
latest iteration
of atoms.

It is like this,
sometimes,
that all the world seems empty,
or worse
that in everything around there is light,
but in me
only darkness,
corruption,
deficiency.

I have tried to be beautiful.

I have tried to hold
about me,
in me,
the mantle of righteousness;
of tolerance,
empathy,
and all that
seems
the trappings of the wise.
I have held to
old words,
verity,
and been content.
Not long.

For always there
has been some snag,
some frayed end,
that in the end
has been the cause
of my fall.
My very own fall
from grace,
in the endlessly
renewing
microcosm
of myself.

And in falling,
I fall always
into myself;
and there all the walls
are mirrors.

If you tell me
that there is still beauty in the world,
I will say yes,
I see it too,
and when I do I see it everywhere
and all the world is beautiful;
it's only
that I can't all the time,
that's all.

If you feel
that I am unhealthy,
if you worry; don't.
For even when it seems
that I will be crushed by darkness,
it is a truth,
that I love
the darkness;
seek it,
yearn for it.
Not always,
but sometimes,
I love it:
For it allows for
circular reflection,
for positive feedback loops,
for the intensification
of those id emotions,
without which, I feel
I could not live.
So thank you,
but don’t worry:
I will take care
of myself.
An old one that still rings true. I thought it deserved the light. Thanks to any who read this.
Sep 2020 · 240
haiku no. 140
Sep 2020 · 236
haiku no. 139
Sep 2020 · 215
haiku no. 138 revised
Aug 2020 · 185
haiku no. 138
Aug 2020 · 166
Senryu no. 1
Jul 2020 · 157
haiku no. 137
Christian Bixler Jul 2020
from above
backlit waves
of plastic
Jun 2020 · 123
haiku no. 136
Christian Bixler Jun 2020
ahead
two red cedars
before pines
Jun 2020 · 147
haiku no. 135
Christian Bixler Jun 2020
grout lines
a row stayed
of fishermen
Jun 2020 · 131
haiku no. 134
Christian Bixler Jun 2020
lemons
in the bowl one
is chipped
A centerpiece.
Jun 2020 · 103
haiku no. 133
Christian Bixler Jun 2020
colored in
a trees bend
and a tune
On a drive.
Jun 2020 · 123
haiku no. 132
Christian Bixler Jun 2020
tulip
in its root is
every root
A rewrite of no. 131.
May 2020 · 248
haiku no. 131
Christian Bixler May 2020
amorphous
the vitality that exists
under blossoms
May 2020 · 157
haiku no. 130
Christian Bixler May 2020
leaf and tale
in brief
heart-shaped
May 2020 · 177
haiku no. 129
Christian Bixler May 2020
plain shapes
hose, cube, cone
colored homely
Lamp fixtures
Jan 2020 · 143
Prince Charles (A Tribute)
Christian Bixler Jan 2020
Listen, now my friends, for I
shall let, the thought that like
an illness threads, laced through
all the causeways of my veins,
that in the moment, threatening
decay, boils, and begs relief;
that all men, and women living,
made in the plan of this wide
and tangled tapestry, seek and
humor themselves to be, each
woven separate, unique in form
and station, and about them hung
the universe, dependent for its
character on their sight, which
itself by their hearts temperament is due.
Life, the lives of others, serve the
merest backdrop, the stage that
is the foundation of our act, and
our struggles, illumined by
measure of their intimacy, seem
in their importance to swallow the
world, and cast all that does not
pertain in a veil of contempt, disinterest.
Yet the world, as in untrammeled
thought we realize, does not sway
according to ourselves, move
whether sweet or bitter, along the
course of our presumption. But in its
step it moves to the tune of its creation;
wholly nothing, never fair nor foul alone;
a pool, in which like ripples man's every
thought and action begins, grows, dies,
and is reborn. Seen now, free of leaning
and imprint, the brush's work broad,
shallow, a truth is opened, that wiser now
perforce we clutch to our *******; that of
the living, who suffer, there are those
who suffer more, or less than ourselves,
and to the former in the halls of memory we
can do naught but weep, so shut our eyes
and turn, pretending the point less sharp,
the dose less bitter, that our minds may fall
again to the pattern, and our eyes again look
outward. Walled so, is it a wonder that these lives,
these men and women, shaped as they are through
pain are found forgot, abandoned in the memory
of their minds, their hearts? But memory is the
root of empathy, sympathy; so remember, and in
whoso you meet light their memory also; for it
is only when record fails that man's erasure is
complete; nor will ever his life lose its meaning
while there is one alive to remember.
Inspired by the episode Tywysog Cymru, The Crown, season three.
Sep 2019 · 361
A Sleepers Lullaby
Christian Bixler Sep 2019
Be unclad of all fear,
o child mine,
of all of its grip and
its guile,

and be light as the air,
as the air, my love, as the
light and the air at dawn.

                  * * *

Let your gladness be sought,
o child mine,
be sought, the desire of your heart,

and may those that pass by be
the gladder for your touch;
the gladder, child that I love.

                  * * *
                  
Be you clad in all colors,
o child mine,
in all colors, my love, save one.

And that color you will hold
in the palm of your hand,
and your eye will always be on it.

                  * * *

Its weight you must ken,
o child that I love, its weight,
that you'll surely keep steady,

for it's woe to you, and loss
beyond loss, if that weight
should ever be greater.

Oh it's woe to you, and loss
beyond loss, if that weight
should ever be greater.
Derived from a melody of the kantele, the Finnish harp.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vG22yCH6cCo
Sep 2019 · 264
Heart Song
Christian Bixler Sep 2019
Oh! Here in my
heart, in my
heart of hearts,
is the name of my love,
my love.

Oh! Here in the
cleft, in the
deepest of deep
places, sheltered
from the wind,
and the sun,
and the sea,
is the name of my love,
my love.

There, my love
in my heart of hearts,
in the dark
of my fear,
and my sorrow,
and regret,
within me forever;
comfort and
solace.

In the fires of
my heart, in the
rivers of my blood,
as life, as the life
of the land, is my love,
my love.

And on my lips,
on the wings of
my breath, is her
name, my love.

In the times
of my gladness,
in the gladness
of my soul,
when my skin
trembles with
the spirit and
sensation, then
am I the gladder,
far more than
any man,
than any at all
in the telling of
this earth,
for I know what
it is to hold
love in my heart.

Yes I know
what it is
to hold love
in my heart.

And I hold you
in my heart,
in my heart,
in my heart.

Oh I tell you
love, you who
dwell within me,
in my breath
as the lands breath,
in my bones
as the lands bones.

If that time too
should come,
if that most blessed
time should
come in its time,
in its time that is
its own time,
and our lips meet,
seed and seeds
desire, there
after long yearning;
after the longest
of long yearnings.

Oh, I know not
what I'd do,
oh my love,
oh my love.

Oh, to know
what I'd do,
oh my love,
oh my love.

But I think that
I'd burst, oh
my love,
my love.

As the dam in
the springtime,
my love,
my love.

But to feel your
touch, your touch
that burns, and
to drink your eyes,
as the pine and
hearthlight,
to know of your
scent, that of
all others is
your own,
and to breathe your
breath, as one,
as one.

To breathe of your
breath, as one,
as one.

Oh for this
do I yearn,
oh my love,
oh my love.

And for this
I'd yet yearn,
oh my love,
my love.

though I withered
in the blaze, oh
my love,
my love.

For in my heart,
in my deepest
heart, yea, in the
deepest of deep
places, there you
are, my love,
and your name is on
the point of my
lips, to fly,
to fly.

To fly as the eagle
flies, swiftly and
with great soaring.

It is you and none
other that I love,
I love.

And in these words
do I tell it, my love,
my love.

Though they fall
unanswered, my love,
my love.

Here is my cry.

Here is my cry.
Inspired by the Kiowa love song tradition, of which I have long known and admired. Meant to be sung.

https://folklife-media.si.edu/docs/festival/program-book-articles/FESTBK1973_03.pdf
Sep 2019 · 445
haiku no. 128
Christian Bixler Sep 2019
to be held
three lines advice
and the horizon
Aug 2019 · 647
haiku no. 127
Christian Bixler Aug 2019
the grey
of this tin figure
wet tile
Aug 2019 · 280
haiku no. 126
Christian Bixler Aug 2019
a likeness
three concentric rings
and a tortoise shell
Seen in the round face of a dust cap.
Aug 2019 · 386
haiku no. 125
Christian Bixler Aug 2019
for a moment
ripples under gloss
a declaration
Tree rings seen in a desk.
Mar 2019 · 1.3k
Tribute for Kaori
Christian Bixler Mar 2019
It was in the spring,
season of new birth
that I first saw you,
weeping in a stand of
wonder that you had
sown.

You seemed then
as a grass, tall as all
the rest yet distinct,
caught in a wind,
and the scent
of blossoms.
You danced, and your
music wound its
way to the sky
and brought
the birds.

As the dawn through
a roof of young leaves
your coming woke me,
and showed me a world
of such beauty that
I felt alive, in a way
I had almost forgotten.

You were the dawn,
and the breeze in
Springtime; you were
wild and you were calm,
carefree and sorrowful,
heartless and compassionate,
thoughtless and full of
knowings. In my ignorance
you were a discord,
a tumble of notes that
proved beautiful,
despite itself. In my
ignorance you were a
wonder. In my knowledge
you are a miracle,
far beyond the reasons
of your being.

You asked if I would
remember you, and in
my heart I laughed as
well as wept. For how
could I not? To ask if I
would forget you, who
had brought such fervor
to my life; such joy.

It was beyond foolishness.

If I weep, forgive me,
for I could wish for
nothing more than to
make you smile; it is
this love in my heart
that does not permit it.

In love I say,
I will remember.
I will remember.
I will remember.
In love.


Farewell.
Christian Bixler Feb 2019
Take the thistle
seen by the roadside
that is remarkable
in your eyes above all
for its color, and for its
solitude, and set it in a
*** of good soil in
your house, upon
the window-sill.
There let it sit,
day in and day out,
crown turned
sunwards, and its
leaves outstretched.
Guard it well
from those insects
that would
devour it, and
give it water,
once per week.
Hold it as a
***** friend,
as a child,
before whose
passing shall
leave the world
descendants
many times its
number, that the
likeness of the
thistle be always
kept in memory,
and in time.



Here, and in such things,
is found beauty.
Jan 2019 · 893
Ode to a Spider
Christian Bixler Jan 2019
Beyond thoughts
use is the power of
her beauty; for my
soul is caught in
the sight of her, and
my heart in
its turn.

Her eyes
like long tapered
leaves, like vessels
sharply prowed,
subtle in their weight
and depth of
cognizance-
twin edged
they gleam,
and knowledge
is in them.

And her voice!
As the sounds of
growing things and
the cello's weaving
her words are song
and her song the
symphony.

Like the stone rippling
and a cat content,
like the sweet bell
when hearts are
wearied.

Beauty!

For thou, and thou
alone
I contend.
This is an old piece I wrote after watching James and the Giant Peach. I was rather taken with the spider. It has though in the editing process taken on a form other than I intended. Instead of praising the beauty that is peculiar to its subject only, it has rather come to portray my concept of feminine beauty in general. Therefore the title, "Ode to a Spider" may not be the best fit. Ode to Beauty, perhaps. I leave it as it is, however, in tribute to the original.
Jan 2019 · 619
haiku no. 124
Christian Bixler Jan 2019
winging from good fortune
the battered albatross
finds rest again

or

once strong-winged
the battered albatross
finds strength again
Recently I encountered beauty, and lingered longer than I should have. Wonder faded a little, and though still beautiful I wondered if I would ever again feel, as a boulder above the sea in storm, the tides of wonder and joy and love I felt rush over me, through me, when I found it for the first time. I lost my faith, and fell into despair. But then, when even this had waned, and a melancholy that was its echo lay over me, I stumbled in the dark, and once again found beauty. And once again, that same tide of impossible joy and wonder and near worshipful adoration crashed over me. And it was in almost inexpressible gratitude that I rejoiced for my foolishness.
Nov 2018 · 318
haiku no. 123
Christian Bixler Nov 2018
on the way
to mountain refuge
car-sick
Nov 2018 · 265
haiku no. 122
Christian Bixler Nov 2018
cold and
mountain lodgings
birds behind
Traveling to North GA to spend a few days in the mountains near Cloudland Canyon hiking with family.
Nov 2018 · 5.2k
Beauty
Christian Bixler Nov 2018
Shifting, sand underfoot
and the moon bent
in reflected splendor, up from the sea, and from the
tresses of your hair;

black, in that time
of dreaming.

The stars,
innumerable in their glory,
wink down at
us gently as we walk,

their mysteries
disregarded.

for in your eyes
lie the sum of
their light.
This is a draft I put together in 2016 and promptly forgot about. I've edited it some, but I'm pretty sure I've just polished it up a little, meaning intact. Figured its about time it got some air.
Nov 2018 · 1.0k
haiku no. 121
Christian Bixler Nov 2018
passing through
sun-soaked leaves
and a footfall
Originally a draft for an earlier work, it resembled more and more something else, some different experience. Thus it's distinction.
Nov 2018 · 363
haiku no. 120
Christian Bixler Nov 2018
scattering light
the squirrels progress
shaken leaves

or

shaken leaves
the squirrels progress
scattered light
A squirrel outside my window on Saturday morning.
Apr 2018 · 1.1k
haiku no. 119
Christian Bixler Apr 2018
losing nothing
light's dispersion
through cumuli
It's a joy to be back.
Feb 2018 · 305
haiku no. 118
Christian Bixler Feb 2018
relief
hidden no longer
in rain-clouds
Feb 2018 · 258
haiku no. 117
Nov 2017 · 454
haiku no. 116
Christian Bixler Nov 2017
to be commended
the lazy ****** rests
after dam-building

or

how estimable
the lazy ****** dreams
after dam-building
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