some haiku for a new year

 

wheel of sparrows
on birdseed ensō
I poured out back

 

 

winter laid at the mercy
of the spring

Lizzie Borden

 

 

trees stood side by side
a hundred and twenty years
no touching

 

car on cinder blocks
cat maternity ward
window down to flirt

 

 

moon spent the night
at your place one spring night
lost its car keys

 

 

a new year’s door
propped open for guests
fog comes in

 

 

these stairs to subway

people the fog descending

to ride in human light

 

 

the moon
forgets where it lives
stops me to ask

 

 

dreams make a movie
of things unmovielike
unhand me, it says

 

 

enter stagnant pond
to gleam as emeralds
duckweed jeweled necklace

 

 

trees pencil the highway
no one around for miles
ideas flock

 

 

birdseed ensō
in galactic spiral
poured from Big Gulp cup

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Baltimore

If I fail to speak to you
As a mirror to a stone in a reader’s desert
As a leaf who has fallen on a car’s hood
Who
Well, we know the Gemini of our feelings
You cross yourself throughout several lifetimes just this way
As the whales traverse oceans
This selfsame moment
We have someone else’s difficult conversation
There is no music for my feelings today
That is the problem over here
(I’m all poppy fields this afternoon)
You have a museum for yours
Still, we are birds of a single claw
This is only a cafeteria where we sit
Who do we think we are catfishing?
As the other couples about us
Other bodies beyond the plate glass
Are doing their duty and becoming reflections
On this day of mercurial puddles
That is the real museum
Out there, good luck it says
Our feeling falls
As a stone’s query to a mirror
As a car that tells a dried leaf danging above it

“Jump and I will catch you”

Against Emotion

Sleep, birds or wonder, if you must,
Drowse, wrath, weather on your divan,
Unincorporate, madness, return my marbles
Once scattered in such longing luxury of losing

Velvet crush on stranger couch, flit, avaunt,
Jealousy of legion ants swarming a spat candy,
Darken my kingdom’s confectionary door no more,
Fond icing sugary as men, cupped grace, back off my eyes

Braids of leisure in lover’s hammock arms,
String of lions with hair madly loyal, matted tawn,
Subway of escape at 3 a.m., headlight names,
We must break up, my hothead lover is a Coke machine

someone’s form once left lit in bodily street darkness

so now his engines seize

Choosing a Mate

A crow hunts a wife.
He looks in at the old cemetery.
Some girl crows are laughing,
perched on the tombstones there.
He looks at the garbage dump.
Some girl crows are eating there,
using their seductive beaks
to separate rotten meat from blonde doll hair.
He surveys a fast food dumpster from the air.
Some girl crows are shopping and croaking there,
keeping each other girl company just fine.
The crow flies away eating air.
Hard into nothingness of sky.
The world is so deep in loveliness
it is just impossible.