morse code
July 13, 2009
lightening strikes silently
composing sentences in morse code
thunderously punctuated
by atmospheric explosions
and i awake
to you
holding me close
and rain
falling into the lake
outside our window.
in shadows
July 8, 2009
your skin feels softer in shadows
and
your words pulsate with
syrupy significance
and
your touches
electrify me
until i’m wide awake
in the middle of the night
wondering at the creation
of such a being as you.
haiku
July 3, 2009
the sun shines,
but my shadowed soul
sings off-key.
july-ku
July 1, 2009
as fireworks flash:
sneaking sips
of beer.
haiku
June 30, 2009
summer is a whirl
pool dragging me into
lethargy
.
these holy leaves
June 27, 2009
stand testament
to the persisting existence of
pests
so i stand
organic pesticide
in my raised right hand
left clutching the hose
as i demand
billowing conviction:
LET MY VEGETABLES GROW!
an incomplete divinity
June 25, 2009
the divine emanates
from undeveloped
parts of this planet
this is that tranquility
sensed while perched
atop a mountain
forest at its feet
lakes living on
the horizon
an incomplete divinity
though
without you
like that time i
went to russia
only to see st. basil’s in scaffolding
this is why two days early
mosquito-ravaged
muddied and
missing you
i returned to civilization.
tomorrow
June 22, 2009
i step into the wild,
leaving my car at the entrance.
no more golden arches.
haiku
June 20, 2009
we wake up
bathed in muted light
rain tapping
haiku
June 15, 2009
morning storm clouds
disperse–yet on my shoulder
falls a few drops.
a poem about a better poem on the same subject
June 14, 2009
in the eleventh grade my spanish
teacher made us read a poem by
pablo neruda about his dead
dog and i could not have cared
less but now i find myself contemplating my
furry companion’s inevitable
end sure that when that day
arrives i’ll seek solace in mr. neruda’s
perfect verse:
Some day I’ll join him right there,
but now he’s gone with his shaggy coat,
his bad manners and his cold nose,
and I, the materialist, who never believed
in any promised heaven in the sky
for any human being,
I believe in a heaven I’ll never enter.
Yes, I believe in a heaven for all dogdom
where my dog waits for my arrival
waving his fan-like tail in friendship.
and i’ll probably stay home for days.
a traveler’s treatise
June 13, 2009
i’ve seen a tiger in denver
caged and discontent–
why in God’s name must i see
one in every city in which i set foot?
will a parade of morose tigers
provide enlightenment?
all our cities
seek to be the same
practicing emulation to perfection
but when we travel
let us cannonball into
the unfamiliar
avoid highways
fill the tires of an old bike
lace up sturdy walking shoes
eat at a restaurant owned by the cook
swim in the nearest river
revel in the flora
seek out the fauna
bathe in the accents of locals
make them your friends
sleep under their roofs
then return
and–without photos–
tell me of your travels
pink eye-ku
June 3, 2009
eye crust
glues shut
the world.
haiku
June 1, 2009
cute neighborhood kids
pet our dog and read us books.
(i can practically hear your ovaries quiver.)
the scene
May 28, 2009
the children arrived first
on the scene, and seeing them
in impressive numbers sprinting across
the square we thought
they were playing a game
until we heard someone say, a grin playing
across her lips,
“kavon’s been shot!”
digust crushed me thinking
perhaps she savored this moment, anticipating
times she’d get to retell it.
others, smiling similarly, emerged in uneven sudden bursts
from their houses, like puss from popped pimples,
and rushed towards the anguished screams
of those i assume were his loved ones
(but i can’t be sure since i refused
to make a spectacle of sorrow)
but am i any fucking better?
my first thought:
this needs to be a poem.
