June 2009
11 posts
Pastoral
More beets than morning glories in the garden now.
I sip merlot and contemplate red.
The cardinal sings in the wild cherry.
Sherry Chandler
Quatrain
words are magic, magic is words
(siren, serene, sliver, sword)
opening hearts, closing minds
(eggshell, box, & lemon rinds)
—
PF Anderson
Pearl in a boy’s hand, unable to let go of that part of her that rolled towards him, a woman, who one day will forget her broken necklace.
Danny Poet
new owners — tall pines in the morning sun
oversouled
love semaphores
1 in her lap her hands engaged in semaphore with themselves
2 lost in her contraband he explored exotic new continents
3 he covers her face in small gestures creating a soft language only she can decipher
rumours in the dry leaves
of one last midsummer day’s breeze
a dark green plastic chair the day rises up to hold me
asmallstone
Found my moon: A circle of rainwater In a black plastic bucket
Paiku [written for Haiku Bandit’s June 2009 Moon Viewing Party]
Bodies
Our fingertips are rhythm: the whorled waves of skin, the throb of pulse, the gentle tattooing of letters into words. The years of work.
* * *
For each cell in your body, there are ten single-celled organisms at work on or inside you. Yes, you’re 10% human and 90% bacterial bustle.
* * * Why in age do ears and nose still grow? To better embrace a whisper from our love, to drink the sweet heavy...
watercolour morning
we bleed outside our outlines
into the rain
Mark Holloway
Sky blue, steel gray clouds
a crow wades through grass green grass
crayon afternoon
K. Lindbeck
tanka – not the way
This is not the way (to go where?) or its tree. This is not a dream, these things are not things.
Adriaan Jacobsz