Haiku
5/12/08
Seeing tumbling cars
on television, wondering
how such fury grows.
5/11/08
On the radio
a song lurches in and out
like happy sobbing.
5/10/08
Sometimes a cry comes
from silence, then I’m sure I’m
hallucinating.
5/9/08
At the grocery
at least my cart’s palsied wheel
is excited.
5/8/08
As a boy I looked
for sheds that stored shadows and
found darkness inside.
5/7/08
Branches sag under
the weight of leaves and blossoms
brushing the earth.
5/6/08
The dryer carries
on endless conversation
with the clothes inside.
5/5/08
Here he is again—
seventeen hash marks carved in
a restaurant table.
5/4/08
A dog dragged a leash,
no owner in sight—I thought,
hmmm, clever disguise.
5/3/08
Sun through the windows
draws maps on a Persian rug
that’s also a map.
5/2/08
You hear urgency
in birds’ song at four a. m.
and rush me along.
5/1/08
April showers brought
one cast off red sock on the
walk, saturated.
4/30/08
The tree’s new leaves join
to cover sky beyond them
like curtains just drawn.
4/29/08
A one-armed windmill
swings its blade all day, carving
time into seconds.
4/28/08
Dark windows reveal
no outside, just reflections
of you staring out.
4/27/08
Orchids crowd a stem
barren two weeks ago, shocked
by their companions.
4/26/08
Life in metaphor—
finding the right description
for the wrong object.
4/25/08
As light dims, the page
slides into twilight—letters
refuse their meaning.
4/24/08
The day pales—the clouds
intervene in everything—
absorbing colors.
4/23/08
Daily catalogs
double and double again—
a sea of slick pages.
4/22/08
When you turn your back,
buds form, from which emerge
millions of green flags.
4/21/08
Three in the morning—
my daughter’s coughing tightens
the vice on my heart.
4/20/08
If winter trees go
naked, now they’re wearing just
pale green chemises.
4/19/08
The birds call the sun
and it rises. They fly off
into the fresh blue.
4/18/08
I wake in dark and
dress in clothes blacker than night.
Day dawns around me.
4/17/08
Some days lake and sky
separate, each bragging different
blues to the sun.
4/16/08
I dreamt every wind
brings kites—flying day and night,
no one at the strings.

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