jornales

for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

the Date (a haibun)

I haven’t posted a haibun in a long while. Here’s one I wrote yesterday:

the Date

I turn towards the brambles—there’s nothing but twig skeletons, and dumpsters waiting for the undertaker. The bus driver takes a minute to shake off the drizzle from his hair, another to brush his moustache, take his jacket off, fluff the cushion on his seat, wiggle for comfort, secure his belt in, fix the mirrors to his eye level, chipping off three hundred or so seconds, splintering my anxiety. The sun would have edged to its zenith by now, the moon fading in its rims, and the bay inhaling air globules soon to heave and ebb. I’ve distended into a thin membrane of capillaries throbbing with a star, waiting for his name to come up in my mind.

 

mnemonic drill

the trench deeper

in sand dunes

 

February 8, 2015 Posted by | haibun | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

My Most Beautiful Thing: an odd rainbow (so far)


(a haibun diary entry)

…the walk I had written you about did happen at a bird sanctuary estuary from the arm of the Fraser River that we know and a beach, first on foot paths that slithered among reeds and sedge grass taller than me, blushes of wild daisies with red hearts and knots like hairs on tips of red cloud weeds, getting wilder as the path deepened into the trees, the air singing with chirps and love calls or chatter rising from the thick clumps of more grass by the water’s edge—a gravel walk finally came to view and out of the canopy of brambles the sky spanned out with a swatch of pink, unlike the tender pink dabs we had waken some dawns but more like an odd rainbow of pinks we haven’t seen yet, straying from the sun’s aureole, but as if only for show because it began thinning out into a breath as the walk curved toward the river shore, same sands we would braid our steps on those mornings that summer a year ago and so, imagine me recalling us

sinking feet in the sand
we draw the tide line
closer to our morning

(My Most Beautiful Thing “blogsplash” celebrates Fiona Robyn’s new novel, The Most Beautiful Thing.)


April 25, 2012 Posted by | haibun, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , | 1 Comment

doves/winter dawn/eyes (haiku on relationships at NaHaiWriMo)

Inca doves nesting courtesy of wikicommons

1.

 cooing

we slip past

the brambles

3.

winter dawn

grayer than her tresses

on his chest

3.

eyes

locked in adoration

my cat and i

Nov 25th prompt by Carlos Colon at the still ongoing National Haiku Writing Month (NaHaWriMo facebook site) with slight editing of #1.

November 28, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

absolved (for One Shot Wednesday)

swallows burst into our crude mornings
their flight staggering on false winds
we gaze aghast

this fractured air birthed on false moonlight
unpredicted

our beggar voice fades into whimpers
fluttering splintered among fallen blossoms
the unabashed camellias bared

a scandal unmasked by a rude sunlight
our bleeding unabated

we slip into the brambles our sobs drowning
in the chatter of winds the river grumbles
about our tears

a sorrow tarnished by ageing stars
sputtering at dawn

a mourning heron ceases lending its grief
we recover our lips on pin drops of sky
the brambles open up for the wind

a chorus of ripples washes our bleeding
steps curl on our tears we rise

white among rhodoras
absolved

Copyright (c) by Alegria Imperial 2011

Posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry, winner of the 2011 Shorty Award for the Arts, the inimitable gathering place of poets and artists where they share their love for their art while nurturing each other. Come join us!

April 19, 2011 Posted by | free verse, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 10 Comments