jornales

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

reggae (haibun)

So, why reggae when I could or must dwell on variations of winter? Even the sun has withdrawn to cuddle up with hibernating thoughts and fur-thickened limbs. It’s cold and damp and gray in my city everyday. Which is why perhaps, this morning I woke up with the sound of reggae on a basin in my mind, the kind you hear on Times Square in New York from the subway station on 42nd and Broadway to the corners of that triangle where Tickits booths stand.

reggae–
the sun dripping
on his basin

Always, a robust sun streams no end on the basin from which reggae artists coax notes to rise  like it were a constant season. But we don’t return after the summer or late spring.

catching a breath
his notes leave for the moon–
reggae

Or under a November sky, without the sun and the reggae artist, we would ourselves be lamenting.

reggae  the sun we can’t find

November 24, 2011 Posted by | haibun, poetry, reflection | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

trove (sequence)

on street –
a shower of petals
for no one

i meet
a hissing rag rug
but dog-stunned cat

singling along
i catch a comet spray
among the daffodils

and pass by
side lying pigeon eyeing
sky path—unblinking

on my window—
potted jewelweeds,
had shed off their sun-strips

the moon shines
on maple trees—
on a city asleep

published in LYNX XXIII:3, October, 2008

January 21, 2011 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments