Last night I tried to shoot the moon.
I missed.
Instead of vanquishing darkness I left a big gaping hole in the sky, but at night you can’t see it anyway.
A bird fell out of the sky that same night. Now it is lying dead on my lawn.
I wish it would move, I need to cut the grass.
The Girl Who Loved Me.
At a house that posed as a posh bar I saw her,
very tall, thin and gangling she smiled shyly
and the young men in the throng thought her
weird, so I befriended her, she was grateful;
yes, for I too know how it is to be neglected.
Afterward we went out for meal she insisted
I must meet her parents, who were proud of
her. And life was sweet for a few days till
I had to leave, she cried, I promised to write
and callously didn’t.
When the moon shone on the Caribbean Sea
and I stood on a hot iron deck alone I regretted
my self-serving empathy, playing on other
people’s emotion, just to tie another knot on
the hangman’s noose .
The Notion
A thought, a beautiful bird, sat on a tree
tried to grab it, but it flew away and was
liquefied, now I can’t even remember its
colour.
The thought is a river, as I put my hands
into it to stop its flow, it turns into a useless
seam of gold.
Gold diggers came, rich now they will
be interviewed, say weighty thing to
newspapers, we will nod in accord, surely
they must sages, as surely as I must find
another stream
I wait for a new thought to drift along,
without great fanfare, one that will change
itself into a beautiful bird that, in time,
will transform into a poem
Haiku
Lucid is the sky
Cool and translucent is day
Wonderful is fall
Haiku
Unambiguous
Is the cold northerly wind
The master of frost
Haiku
It was a short fall
The sun shone and it was warm
Indian summer
Haiku
Morning’s snow crystals
Downed on lawns too early
Sun is still in charge.
Haiku
Aquatic time
Relentless rain harshly fall
Time to read a book.
Haiku
Rain on the mountain
River runs with fiercely rage
To meet its maker.