jornales

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

Road Kill (a haibun)

“Big brown eyes”, I caught the driver gush. He and an off- duty driver have been trading road kill stories. I stop breathing over perhaps a girl stunned by his brake lights. Only to find relief from the next phrases dropped on my eaves; he talks of a Bambi like deer that appeared on his headlights. Now I want to intrude into their cove though I’m no driver–I’m just a thief. And so, while my bus mates recede into their inner ears, I rise and pick up the limp fawn, and squeeze my heat, my passions, rages, regrets, hungers. The sun bursts out of and back in on the wind shield, and on eyes turned to me as on four legs, I pause by the door to get off. Behind me the driver gushes, “Big brown eyes”.

 

map of the world

only on top soil

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March 6, 2015 Posted by | haibun, poetry | , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment