hiking new forests mountain homes of moss and dew more roots deepen
berries ripe dot taiga heath-- alien planet
yellow blazing sun 'packin'rocks' from maine to georgia
pain born hero in oven boots of blood and pus-- summit breeze
barefoot hiker calls herself 'FearNot'-- toes enjoy same mud
snake rises up fangs gleam at water lair cold spring quenches all
***** at each view-- water comes in and goes out like a filter
at waterfalls, swans alighting air-- noble poise on the way to sea
gunas intertwine my sweet mountain hunger paths bitter taste of bark
sour grass garnish of an earthen tract saliva honeyed
strands of spider flight -- i too catch myself making web after web
"nature loves to hide" hidden hermit roars of all strife and fire flux
spider bite at dusk afterswing of scenting food shoo the meal away
change becomes the same-- people streams talking pixels aging static web
symbols set in light speed of optic living nodes; clicking finger fibers
websites spin and stick plastic tropical alphabets ant waves clean the keys
fueling in process, living fossils already drilling seas--on earth
give or take six months, happy birthday! two seasons gone
A mountain poet has come to the city, blisters pushing up his toenails. His smile spans 15 blocks of concrete and rebar. Strangers coo to see his sunshine gait but cough at his aroma. Hospitality is found after all, in parks and in the drunken streams from clubs gregarious for midnight novelties.
poet's apology-- not exactly 'myself' to license gratitude when time gifts symbols distance-- terror war towers still fall
Emergencies of all sorts force their way into my mind, as I live, sometimes as I write. Ambiguities serve as fulcrum nooks for meanings incompossible to hide, not being ready to share what can't be shared, obscurity offers the ineffable reprieve to be spoken nonetheless.
peering in the word-- sound signs meta symbol witty sea of *****
property stings abstract fights to earth mixing labor
i found a haiku on my coworker's desk-- where is the frog pond?
dad drinks alone-- photo recalls sunlit leaf and beer can stare
opining fire false freezing hearts with argument-- cold spring, winters warm
It is with the love of a child that I write, wincing harder into that self-given 'Indian-Burn' of cathartic fetish and psychological indulge. Where is maturity, and what use is it when faced with endless ground-zeros? Still open to answers, still unwilling to speak plainly or straight about the blanket crookedness and blissful meander that colors life most vividly. I imagine dacrygelosis understood.
thawing pond creaks in headstand calm-- autumn air released
night's insight pierce heralds migraine's ease-- gong of moon or sun
on dead wood, against live trees, hours of *** by mycelia blooms-- fragrant rot and sweat collide skin spotted with forest sun
love signs everywhere-- two trunks spiraled in a yellow wood
vocal awe resung this is love! this is love! deep summer fruit
rub of bark vast forest sways across skin naked expanse