Category: My Poetry & Fiction

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So finally I depart this world:
not to be a ghost, which I am,
but to enter another,
where the sea licks at stones,
where the sun hangs low,
where the roads end,
farther north,
with trees
there.

– a nonnet.

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Vines
bear fruit,
entangle
my stomping limbs,
propose new pathways
encased in greenery:
nature's baroque digressions,
which grant, with the singing bees,
an ambivalent epiphany.

– a reverse nonnet.

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Introspective cows
contemplate outstanding things
and taste the fine grass.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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The sun's disk descends
and gnaws at the ocean's waist;
a droll sea twitches.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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a thousand words for gray, all lined up
beside my cup, on the day:
empty play.

– an englyn cil-dwrn.

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the forest dwells below
and sends up trees for the sky
to caress with fog

– a pseudo-haiku.

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We drove down the coast highway today
escaping the dull pall of smoke
and dropping down into fog
weaving down one-oh-one
seeing the great rocks
tasting the sea
retracing
the way
home.

– a nonnet.

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there's a paling time
a little bit before dawn
when the ground is ash...

– a pseudo-haiku.

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a bird comments first
then a chipmunk adds a thought
morning's underway

– a pseudo-haiku.

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Sun or moon or stars:
gasping, grasping, bright tokens
of elusive time.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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Summer's crickets hum,
their sound mounded around me
like a coal-toned dome.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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A bold thunderstorm
rumbled through, suggesting plains
sampling the parched earth

– a pseudo-haiku.

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Let there be a story now, enveloped
in bland hope, words that allow
knowing how.

– an englyn cil-dwrn.

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Temperance, it's said,
will be rewarded in life;
so pause, look at things.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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Words spill out, diverge
across a landscape of trees,
summer's haze's dreams.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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Draw
Some lines
Vertical
Horizontal
Or in wide spirals
Across unmade whiteness
Conjuring open spaces
Which you might want to populate
With the fictional ghosts of real dreams

– a reverse nonnet.

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In airport lounges
people await departures
and the sun rises.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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When seen from above
it still seems a good planet:
clouds, fields, storms, some streams.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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The sun's sphere loomed red -
Smoke from all the fires out west -
Minnesota dawn.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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up at dawn, driving
the sun illuminates things
the project begins

– a pseudo-haiku.

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I will be so glad
to slow down, to come to rest
with Alaska's rain

– a pseudo-haiku.

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The problem that I had
was a lack of words. Morning
had consumed them all.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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I could just despair
of making sense of my life;
Leaves spin: green and white.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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small fragments of light
sculpted by cloud and forest
sneak past my window

– a pseudo-haiku.

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a pebble dwells in aimless solitude
the earth exudes no progress
but stillness

– an englyn cil-dwrn.

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changeable weather:
leaves turned, facing the sky,
licking a storm's winds.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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In Minnesota,
sometimes, with some clouds above,
the summer feels cool.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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all my possessions
sit and slumber uselessly
and they possess me

– a pseudo-haiku.

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The airplane plunged down
gently grasping the runway
while night sky turned gray

– a pseudo-haiku.

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Each dawn follows night.
Sometimes a bit of cloud drifts,
caught and torn on trees.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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The sun heats the world,
And even ghosts look for shade.
Lost souls tug it down.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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The Ilsan moon set.
Under my feet, the world moved.
Elsewhere a moon rose.

– a pseudo-haiku.

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A yellow moon rose
over Olympia's firs,
out by Rainier to the east.
Aging hippies
and their kids
and grandkids
and a few great-grandkids
sat in a circle
composed of memories
and regrets
and the sweep of time
singing old Bob Dylan songs.
The moon's light grew bold
and enjoined the night to listen.

– a free-form poem.