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

the sun’s footfalls (random lines not quite haiku)

…this is really me, writing, unshackled by poetic (all forms, genres) discipline. Call me untamed, even feral. I’ll agree. But this is my true spirit that I must let roam once in a while like today. 


burnt orange the sun’s footfalls

moon flitting
from staccato dawn
an owl hoots

a scrabbling in the pine copse raccoon eyes

is the fox a man in his dream?
snow melt

at jet stream

ivy wall
in its shadowed side
sunlit sighs


May 11, 2012 Posted by | poetry | , , , , , , , | 2 Comments