short poems, haikus and the like from my little moleskine
Pouring priceless
perfume; please plead
passionately.
I cannot sing as an impresser
for lovely things
must not have reason
After all
it is reason which has
made countries ugly
made lovers complex. – 7/26/08
Over
our own oddities,
others oblige.
Neglected nymphs never
notice
noon's niceties.
Staring from indoors–
awed inspiration saying
“whatever, lightning.”
Men may magically
move monuments–
merely muses.
Linger later,
less light,
linger later.
Kings
kill,
knives kiss.
If you don't sleep
at all, you will
never have to wake.
Stilettos are silhouettes
of woman–
blood and protest reversed.
The importance of
America is lost in
one man's foolish smile.
The big kids
re-living
the park with new hands.
There is a romance about the shelves–
the smell of leather binding,
and friendship in a borrowed book.
There is magic in an hour's abyss. – 3/7/08
Deeper than another,
we (all) believing
so.
I think I love her
and her serious white hair.
What shock of coincidence when
she enters, or have entered,
that I have seen her– just before.
I think I get her
and her talk of human experience. – 1/22/08
It snowed now– that much
you already know
And I don't want to admit
what I miss so I'll use metaphors
I'll decorate it nicely, yes, nicely
How ironic, how I've already said
too much and how much
it's become about me – 1/15/08
Smelling spines,
leather binding, and
pages!
(Promised candlelight)
Swing low and sweet, chariot–
usher in the new.
Must I, in newness, feel the difference?
As clocks twist, the naming of time shall change
and I, in moonlight, may recollect
a year's doing- ever real and ever here. – 1/1/08
Just jewels,
just joy,
just jealousy...
In idleness I,
in innocence ignited,
I in I, implied.
Heaven's
holy harps healing
heavy hearts.
nestled against the olive tree
I say "give me what you are"
it's all too clear, I remember, yet so far
and I can't say what is then and here
Take me to your palisades
the light. the sound. the feel.
that I might cry again. – 11/7/07
Gathering gifts–
grass grown
gracefully.
Finally
freeing
feeling first.
Even earth
enjoying early
elegance.
Darling, don't dare
deny
delight.
Can
carrying coats cause
courage?
Brilliance bound by
boasting– being
bare.
An adorable accent
accompanying an
attraction again.
The mystery is,
will the promise be kept?
Can you hold to the
over-feeling and the
I-don't-know of the
idea? The mystic point is,
you are beyond the
flying things. Oh,
you know the implication. – 8/9/07
Secretly
thirsting for autumn,
and yet...
Counting raindrops–
a sure sign
of hope.
The crisp turning
pages of grandfather's
old favorites.
Formal greetings;
leaving a family's
flowers behind.
it's a blooming sort of being,
being born by blue
of course.
plain and right, the constellations
never lie; nor do names know noons.
there's a tender sort of calling,
calling cranes to come
quite so.
sweet and clean, the fierce false-settos
always tell; here i am listened. – 6/8/07
Simple words
escaping the mind during
moments before sleep.
Your early sandals
waking to the sun's music–
ever so humbling.
Caloused fingers on
rusty guitars becoming
antidotes for youth.
The sewing machine
is your art, oh mother; mine
is that dress tonight.
Deceived by
gasoline–
only to be saved.
The
confidence
of your misdirections.
Mad scientists to be left
to their own
intelligence.
Venturing up, past
Jericho's walls– what
a long way.
and your timidness.
as you glance back.
not believing the words
i am speaking to the wind.
will you not lift this dream
from me. will you lay your head
by the riverside. hear,
oh humble skies.
move, my trivial hands.
take me up with thee.
may i follow once more. – 2/16/07
Wish for a
timeless dancing-
may I be yours?
Sifting
soft
songs, so serenely shining.
Paint falling on the
artist's eyes, sight
at last! sight at
least and the last
moments of this
gallery will only
be as good as
they remember. – 3/24/06
Steady
beating; spring's
opening eyes.
A silly girl
crying–
hands to cheeks.
The fireflies
like
water lights.
I come when she
sleeps. I'll come but
she only likes waking
I'll lullaby her because
she is mine. And
sweetly sweet she
passes by. I can
only see so much
from this aging
window frame. – 12/13/05
She is writing
not only in
this room.
A lime's zest
as good as
any rain.
Coming yesterday–
the familiar
moon.
A desert
xeric-
enough.
Making significant
this
little wrinkle.
A welcomed vacancy
culling my
eyes to rest.
Stranger-
unmasking me here
first night.
Brittle thorns
for
brittle thoughts.
This scarlet
hand
pouring.
The rainstorm
reminder of what comes
what comes.
A summer
quilt
never happening.
The shy protea
contradicting
her fashion.
You
abiding
these nocturnal lips.
Mistakeable strokes
upon a mosaic
wall.
My wealth
growing by your
lapiz lazuli eyes.
Filling my clocks
are these
jade stones.
The morning incandescence
why white but
not golden?
Taking a subtle glimpse
of postcards left
untouched.
This wilting lilac
just like
grandmother's palm.
The ensemble of autumn
resonance–
awakening any slumber.
Moonlit ballet–
slender spinning 'til
breakfast comes.
The quiet lily
trickling willingly down
the mountain cascade.
The rain darkening
the dirt under these toes
and even so.
Close the door behind
you, sparrow
but kindly soft, adieu.
It may not be
such a bad thing
to be a coral of the sea.
Stain glass windows let a few
greens and blues in, oh
don't forget the roses
Not too much, but just enough
to awaken my sleep
I'm a ballerina you know–
just for today (when the
sun goes down) I'll be
a violinist– It's that easy
because they go hand in hand. – 11/20/05
She wishes she could
sing as sweet
as she can write.
The empty seat, I watch awhile
That crown you wear,
I'd like one too
The sun looks warm but
the wind is not
But what do I know?
That's all beyond this window
This is a strange time to cry
so I will
My clogs are ready to roam. – 11/18/05
I observe
because it's
easy.
That scratch on this pearl
is (quite significant) now
So hush hush
my dear dear
I'm not ready to
lavish you yet. – 11/16/05
Such things
distract
the eyes.
Rhythm, rhythm
is
absent.
The best day
you had is tomorrow–
I promise.
Seconds are only (just)
a currency for clocks
and she's buying
He'll laugh because it's silly
And she'll smile because it's nice
But (by the way) those
are subject to change
What she lacks in pretty
she makes up for in words
Because park benches
were meant for sitting only
on those never days. – 11/15/05
She wore two
coats today,
just to be safe.
Good news–
finding a
peach tree.
I climbed a tree today
Yes, still some snow left,
but oh, what disgrace:
for I needed a ladder
but bare with me, friend,
It's been a few years
since I was a child. – 11/13/05
Those big paintbrushes
turning out to actually be
trees.
The goldfish, to me
don't seem friendly
any day.
The creaking bridge–
today
seems safe.
There's something
crazy about the sifting
leaves.
Tonight
they complain too much–
the crickets.
On days like these
even the trees
beg for a coat.
It surprises
every so often-
the firefly perched on my nose.
The tulips–
now they have agreed
to wake.
The clouds answered
to my lovely smiles with
tears of its own.
The sun, today–
forgot about
our rendezvous.