Love song of the seasons

Shall we meet on some vacation,
Soaked in summer perspiration
Or put it off till August
When the rains no longer dog us

Or shall I look for you in autumn
Seeking out your soggy bottom
Wrapped in leaves of red and gold
While your ass is growing cold

But not as cold as winter’s blast
Be you ever so steadfast
Will you be on some new caper
Despite the freezing vapor

Or, alas! not until spring
Shall I find you on the wing
Pushed along on some tornado
Nearly halfway to Laredo

Whatever is the season
You choose to fry or freeze in
I hope it’s not too long, my lover
Or soon we’ll have to start all over

Linden flowers

In spring, my mother
would send us to the park
to pick linden flowers for tea.

Today, sitting in the shade,
I thought I heard her calling,
but it was only a breeze.

Crying like the light within me

I’ve got cheap suitcase syndrome
I can’t sleep but on the roadside
under troves of leaves
enwrapped in wings of night

worms beneath my head
an apple in my eye
dust around my pants cuffs
Walt Whitman under my boot soles

did I mention suitcases?
I bank my will in them
tie strings around my navel
to remember, or forget,

whichever suits my case
like a blind wizard-boy
don’t look now here comes
another arrow

Friday haiku 90

Nothing moves
in this heat
except desire

Riga, my Riga

In the antique shop
on the ground floor
of the building
where my parents lived
the year they married
I thought I heard someone
call my name
as if I lived there
too, so long before
my birth in the camp.