haiku
by rcribay
over your shoulder,
in the latticed window:
the first shock of forsythia.
Where will you go?
This darkened wine pours city streets
Splashing to gossip down pocked alleys
Over highways
Under bridges
Between us all
The thirst is quenched, the search continues
Glinting resplendence
Stored to maturity
Encapsulated to revive dustiest of dreams
Inscription worn to decay
Inscrutable, but perceptibly outlined
Pronouncing with revered remembrance—
Where will you go if you depart now?
Forgotten on a cellared rack
What will you have then?
losing myself
daily
now
brains eyes ears
dulling
every day now
all these things looking
sounding
differently
either that or i’m remembering it
wrong
again. is it the light…
or the sleep
wearing
me
down?
these thieves in every air
particle
even now stealing my
breath.
too tired to get me
back.
Our minds wander
to the land of cymbals and cigarettes
oh, this land of plenty has got
everything but that, it seems
The sweet smell of the sea breeze
and the thoughts of old Byzantium so
eerily close at hand.
As we drift ever farther,
black sea starts us sinking,
the aridity compromised only
by tall bottles of sweet red wine
Yeats would be ecstatic
today i wrote my masterpiece
on letterhead from that place
we know
encrusted it in overlaid gold
submitted it for review not by
peers but the higher ups. you know
the people who really decide
if you’re someone or not
today i wrote my masterpiece
i blogged it on the interwebs
i crossed my fingers and hoped
for wealth. but i knew i was willing
to settle for comments
