September Haiku

September suns rays
slice across verdant gardens.
Cold nights chill my toes.

Summer emptied.
I use days up as they come.
Silk breeze on my thigh.

Kitchen counter full.
Fall bounty clogs big pots.
Earth oars down the clock.

Rake dreams with windows open.
Kaleidescope trees.
Leaves need many big bags filled.

Pace this day’s flight with tastes
of Summer’s ripe bounty.
Pesto’s delight greens my mouth.

Morning mist weighs down dawn
Between Summer and Fall.
Coffee tastes better in cold weather.

Technorati Tags: , ,

Places Too Close

Rusty Train Car
There are places he’d rather not go,
closets where clothes are too tight,
pants with belt buckles which still latch
to the shortest length, but now
he can’t hold his breath that long
anymore. He wants to be padded with
Pillsbury dough, something to grab
when hands are available to grope
his half century folds of skin
dessicated and pinched from too much sin.
His big heart chokes the tight collar.
He feels safer in the puppet theater, where
the extra strings keep him from floating
away from so much hot air.
Watch him standing in the sun, waiting
alone for the train north, not willing
to make eye contact for long.
Smile and lift him without saying
a word.

I wrote this after seeing the movie ‘Into the Wild’ by Sean Penn. The poem is not so much about the movie as how I related to it. It’s about frustration with social artifice and the strictures of decorum, within which one wonders how much real love and spontaneous feeling is lost. It’s about feeling limited by discomfort in that system and also about wanting to just fit in and be one’s self.

Wind Chimes

Wind Chimes at Sunrise
Thoughts on time
in tones of blues
or orange, bright
pearls of sun
drip down these tubes,
while air slips through
their purple scales,
random chance, dares,
wishing only for harmony.

Wind chimes remind us of the persistent nature of change, and teach us to make music with lessons learned from impermanence.

Click here to hear the chimes of a “Balinese” scale hanging near my house.

I have several sets of medium to large chimes hanging around my garden. Their scales are neither happy nor sad, but mysterious and questioning. I never tire of hearing them. Their music ranges from one tone lingering across many seconds to a joyous cacophony of 30 bells clanging in response to active wind.

Rhythms of the Seasons

The rhythms of the season hypnotize us
as they go ’round and ’round and ’round,
faster each year as we age,
building to some distant, palpable climax
while receding from another, ancient past.

Faster they spin, compelling us to fill fleeting days
with meaningful events.
(love may deepen,
hate grow brittle,
poetry more necessary)

To and fro, light to dark, the pendulum swings
stupendously, irrevocable across the map, throbbing
in every molecule with its unabashed preponderance.

No sooner sweet Summer arrives
in her full sensual glory
and vapid dissipation,
then be the slightest incline, the longest day tipped,
we start the slow, poignant slide
to the depths of
Winter.
Thus we arrive again at this valley
of Yin,
whose darkness and gravity turns us inward
to our sweetest, softest, most delicate
center.

As if by sheer will (and hope and need)
we nudge the gyration
back toward light,
we indulge in glitter and compassion.
We reward love needed and given
with earnest countenance.
We search our souls for cheerful ways
to decorate the days.
We celebrate the counterpoints of our lives,
barely pausing to reflect
over the abyss which lies beneath
the fragile music we make.

This was one of Barbara’s favorite of my poems.

Katydid!

True Katydid
Sometimes
pondering the beauty in life is not enough to feed my spirit. Those times the dark side keeps me sane. This poem is about seeing clearly what is before me, not just rosy hopes. As Richard Bach wrote in his book Illusions, “Perspective. Use it or lose it.” The truth is often not pleasant when looked at closely.

Lost in the crowd of mumbling voices
I barely know what to say, at least out loud.
They all were telling me it was Katy,
“Katy did it, Katy did, Katy…” Katy did what?

I hear what lies beyond those jumbled thoughts.
I know what lies there, beyond the the greasy fields,
beyond the river toward the concrete harnesses,
the asphalt pits and manifold exhaust.
The marks of the tribe are everywhere.
Even the grass can scarsely grow
before it is hacked to look neat and low.
So what if Katy did it, does anyone know?

The glare from the street lights is not from heaven,
though heavenly gas burns within, fed by dancing gnomes.
Traffic roars by in the distance, inevitable, just out of reach
of sleep. Discarded toys of progress choke the blood of brethren kin.
But, Katy did. Katy did it. Katy did it. When?

The seeds of clarity must be there, but not in my breath
gasping beyond the crickets’ pearly sprays of blacks and grays.
A steetlamp’s false light blinks at death
hovering near. It gasps as the darkness
molds itself around the warmth of our day.

The razor’s edge must still be sharp
but it seems hard to know where it begins
amid the din of mountains freezing
before the light of this god’s icy artifice.
These streets do not lead to heaven.
The light there is not golden.
Katy knows it.
Katy knows.
Katy does.

Here’s the sound of a Katydid: PLAY. Here’s a photo and description of a true Katydid.