questions, your answer…a haiku series
winter silhouettes—
if blackened do nails
retell stories?
***
spiced wind
do snow tracks carry
your voice?
***
when banana hearts
peel off a lover, is it
the solstice?
***
lotus shadow…
is that frog song
a dirge?
***
tattered waves
why must keening tears
leap as an arc?
***
roaring wind
from what stone pod
do you rise?
***
sun dial
in the dark toasting
minions?
***
his arrhythmic heart
on a treadle… does the weaver
know?
***
wild wind
on dry sedge—
what more in her mind?
***
spiraling down
as fish…is the ocean
my soul?
summer dusk
summer dusk (a symbiotic poem)
Always, a loon scours the river shore with me. We dip into indentations of footprints. Share secrets we unravel: the scalloped lips of shells, the broken ribs of fish, the names we name stones. We use no words. The loon thinks he sings, his song always a dirge. I sigh on endless waves, my sighs fragile as peace. We count our regrets on fingers of evergreens, codes a river will never understand. At sunset, the loon spreads its wings to scoop the sun. I let loose my hair in strands to make a web. We wait.
summer dusk
a spider gnaws
at the sunset
LYNX 28:1 February 2013