False idylls

Ah, we say, what a life!
and yet …

We are the heirs of discontent
we carry all colors among us
to their inevitable conclusion

Our eyes are rising swiftly
under an aging sun

What nourished our forebears
we find merely annoying
All those Bible Prophets mute
as sacks of sand

To build dikes against
a flood which never comes
and yet …

here we stand
precisely in their footpads

Friday haiku 101

To the mantis
I am a soft, pulsating
Mountain

Friday haiku 99

September moon
Sailing above cicadas
Dying for love

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

A minor quartet

The Art of Dreaming I
1. Close your eyes
2. Remember

The Art of Dreaming II
1. Trust your eyes
2. Surrender

The Art of Dreaming III
1. Damn your eyes
2. Carry on

The Art of Dreaming IV
1. Open your eyes
2. Forgive