A pair of hidden coots
in the sedge line
driven out
by raucous fighter jets.
Bubbles alive with memory
trail upon the lake top.
An Attempt to Free This American Soul from Materialism
A pair of hidden coots
in the sedge line
driven out
by raucous fighter jets.
Bubbles alive with memory
trail upon the lake top.
To our sons or daughters,
You have nothing to be ashamed of, whatever it is that they mock you for, it is also them;
There is nothing that belongs to you that is not also theirs.
The streets are hungry and the alleyways hungrier still, and you will find in your own way that language is only yours and that miles divide us what is right here next to each other.
So don’t be afraid to stand on your own. Don’t be discouraged that they have what you seem unable to possess; if it is possessable at all you too already have it.
Whatever it is you fear that you are, in solitude, alone, know that it was made right here in the interconnectedness of all things, in this world.
Whatever you fear you have made others into, know that you have that capability and choose to make things well;
your pain is their pain, as their pain is yours.
i had a daydream then,
as i was being drawn to the noose
someone in the crowd yelled,
traitor!
it was so vivid
as echoes on the old stone walls.
the rope squeezed
and i realized
i’ve been traversing
incomprehensible distances
inside my own mind,
while running the treadmill.
It’s like
that time, remember, you drifted through the crowd with purpose and ease. You saw every way forward, every crease. With only one aim in your heart: to feel the music. Toward the thumping speakers you drift, beating with the rhythm that held your whole body together, held the earth in place. Holy melodies shook thunder from the dome-sky. All you wanted was to feel it, coursing through your entire body, like aching desire. And there was no stopping you. Remember? the sweet release.
(it’s like that)
Playground days
my page sits blank
Cricket sings
under crescent moon
As the smile
returns to my face
Thinking about watching you
making discoveries new.
My life is a portrait of states of mind.
Every night before I go to sleep I practice letting go, letting go of ego. Looking outside, looking outside of me. Slipped into dream.
Upon finding a honeybee on her afternoon rounds…
clover to
clover between
my feet —
breeze
SevenTwentynineNineteen
Fledglings in and out
Of baby yew. . . and i’m
The only one watching!
Fruit Flies and Summer Heat
fruit flies are in full
bloom in this summer heat,
a dish of apple-cider vinegar
on the counter, next to a vase
of dead and dried wild flowers.
dishes are stacking up, and
now i think there’s a fruit
fly in the back of my throat.
Here’s my entry for this weeks #Haikai Challenge: Cicada
Cicada husks on siding of my memory -back to school shopping
To check out the other entries and add one yourself…