January 2009
33 posts
1 tag
Further thoughts on Wumenguan - koan 1
A day so dense and still The sky might burst with thunder The crows scream No! No!
Twitterku
At first light, a rare glimpse of a rabbit below the porch. I can hear the ice shattering as it chews on a clump of dead brome grass.
Morning Porch / Dave Bonta on January 9, 2009 at 9:06 am
Empty winter lake:
One sail, healed by the stiff gale,
Captures my desire.
Twitterku
Waiting for Sleep
(i)
sleepless night
watching sweet gum by sweet gum
the rising moon
(ii)
faithful as old hounds
arthritic knee and thumbs
sharing my bed
(iii)
a sour stomach
remembering the days
I ate what I pleased
(iv)
the neighbor’s dogs
what sets them to barking?
they, too, are lonely
(v)
the moon descends
from cell tower to belfry
sleepless night
JS Absher (revised from Twitter)
August
morning a sleeve of fog mountain waving to mountain
JS Absher (revised from Twitter)
Rather out of season, but still a fib...
white
doom
goes boom
summer looms
magnolia blooms
lighting lamps in green-shaded rooms
http://blogs.salon.com/0002296///2006/05/31.html
Fibonacci, anyone?
( 1 ) Don’t
(1+0) fall
(1+1) awake
(2+1) yet, dreamer.
(3+2) The moon rises, half
(5+3) empty, half fool, to smile on you.
Originally posted on http://blogs.salon.com/0002296/2006/04/21.html.
NYT article on Fibs.
“Better do it fast
Whatever you plan to do.”
Workday morning sex.
Twitterku
Burst of rain at dawn
Cleared deck of works in progress
Left undone for days
Twitterku
Bottle Tree (revised from Twitter)
(1)
yellow, green, red, brown
every season’s colors
on the bottle tree
(2)
bottles on the cedar
the spirits call and whistle
hollow warblers
(3)
bottles on the tree
open beaks
filling with rain
(4)
drifting clouds
dark blue bottles
shake off the moon
(5)
high wind
bottles from the cedar
flatten the grass
(6)
spring storm
the cedar drops its bottles
to watch them bloom
(7)
still night
big...
Moon Poems: A Twitter Collage
A high jet reflects the last light of the sunset. The white moon rising.
Kris
Rising moon, what is your lullaby for the resting blackbirds?
Sid Kemp
moon rising the shadow of the ridgetop pine stretches for miles
JS Absher
deep black sky the moon lies down on a cloud.
Adriaan Jacobz
Suddenly awake to find the waning moon shining on my pillow
Kris
The dry pond water enough for the...
1 tag
With a snap of flag, white caps march across the water.
Outside the window, roof perched, crow spreads morning headlines.
Good morning all!
Judith 12
No bourbon, no boo -
Conversations with my dogs:
They’re stone sober too
Twitterku
1 tag
Wooden fence rolling
Along the property line
A crow on each post
Twitterku
hubcap hangs on a branch: roadside bauble
a small stone
Went out & got stuck in traffic: trucks crowded with shouting people, carrying giant, gaudily painted Ganesh statues to throw into the sea.
Nancy Gandhi
Lines for January 15
Hollow. Cracked like an orange cup – the sky.
Tom Montag
Alas, diplomat
Alas, diplomat, full of djinns; must you lick the lace of her velvet spur?
tinydoctor
Invocation of Issa
Issa please come talk
Of the ordinary mind
In 17 vowels.
Twitterku
Cat's Paw Proof
The articulation of my cat’s paw, Its furred retraction; Its honed sharp extraction To the flensing blade of a claw;
Via blueheron
This range of function from the gentle to the tough
Should be proof enough.
Via blueheron
Dangriga Town
even in Dangriga hearing the beating drums I long for Dangriga JS Absher
the day after I fell, perfect awareness of body.
aj3d
The grave at sunrise. The grave buried in snow. The grave in recession. The grave at war.
SlowReads
2 tags
Robin to the north sings “cheerio, cheerio.”
Cardinal to the south responds “ridicule, ridicule.”
I stand as interpreter to both messages.
Sherry Chandler
In the Eno River
(i): chase and bump grapple and glide mating turtles
(ii): brown water snake swimming upriver wordless poet
(iii): winter flood beaver kits washed from the lodge
(iv): fording the flood the yearling deer cannot touch bottom
JS Absher
Shadows
It’s shadows that make shape & form, tell the story, give secrets away.
Northwest wind →
The Northwest wind
remembers winter
Bougainvillea blooms
Kris
6 tags
January 1, 2008 A fresh dusting of snow since...
Pondering the cave around the heart.
- oversouled
Welcome
Please use the comment thread to address any issues pertaining to the aims and means of this site.
[Redacted by the author for brevity’s sake, 1/27/09]
Waking up: “Today we must —”
Outside: sunlight, rain on the leaves.
—KrisLindbeck
SlowReads →
Where are my dead buried? Have the dead buried them off?