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.