Haiku Sonnet: North and Sedgewick

They wait at the signs
telling them it’s a bus stop,
trying not to see
each other, the sky,
anything close to here.  Some
have papers or books
to take them away,
but they stare too. The bus is
more reliable.
The middle distance
promises some salvation,
a sweep of motion
that, across the street, appears
to make them vanish.

Flame Out

Perhaps the end of this blog inspires me to speak, but I can’t resist a little political candor.
Up to now, I’ve avoided politics, and when I couldn’t resist weighing in, I’ve weighed both sides, criticized both sides, and generally remained what has become my favorite word, circumspect. I’ve tried to say something hopeful.  Today, however, [...]

After the Party

Crepe paper in the punch bowl
bleeds red into the yellow,
and signs turned down shout
into the floor. One sleeping
reveler seated in the corner
dreams time goes on, voices
screaming against the current
of sound.  A storm of movement
still stirs under his lidded eyes,
and he rises, stumbling in
and out of my sight.
In this silence, I’m immobile,
replacing objects in untouched
spots, looking [...]

If I Blog Again

…please stop me.
Joe Felso is actually my third incarnation as a blogger. The first time I wrote a haiku a day and an essay a month, book reviews every once in a while, and, if I couldn’t think on anything else, pasted in poems I’d written long before. That blog wasn’t successful in [...]

Dating in College

All I remember of her is dinner
in my apartment—a candle’s crooked wick
breaking and burning in parts, a waif doused
in a wax sea.  She eased her fingers into
the flame bed, nimbly coating their tips.
With surprised looks, she winced, blowing
to abbreviate pain, then removed
the wax caps—the casts of her most extreme
self—and lay them like petals on the [...]

Closing Shop

Anyone visiting here recently might not be surprised to learn this blog is coming to an end.
This post is number 360, and, at present pace, I’ll soon post for the 365th time. That will be enough. Though Joe Felso will circle like a derelict satellite for a while—long enough for me to copy [...]

A Letter Home

In time lapse, sun sculls along horizons—
rising, setting, pulling deeper currents.
Drifting sand finds no traction, but you try
not to see it that way. Instead, routine
assembles each day beside each other,
another shade darker or lighter, not quite
the same. Tell me, how do you pass the time?
When the waves in front me tilt and slide,
I [...]