haiku - Aug. 31, 2022
Death Valley outside a Balinese breeze inside the glass between worlds
car ride or bike ride walk in the woods or dip in the pool iced coffee or iced tea napping or tv watching documentary or alien syfy...
I still wipe down a drop of water next to the sink shuffle the newspapers into a neat pile for recycling check my emails go outside ...
let me catch my breath remove my shirt blot the sweat with it hear the cubes clink in the glass liquify in the juice and with that most...
no rocks or boulders have ever married had kids and a family even the handsomest ones simply wear with age to become lonely stones...
my skin prickles when I step outside that’s each hairlet grabbing a faucet the pores installed 24 years ago each worn-smooth handle turns...
like curvy seconds they are the clock that runs relentless in its passage a second look tells me the sky is broken the clouds have...
I like the poet who throws words in the back seat and hands love the wheel
showered shaved cool under this fan swirling frigid air a glass of peach iced tea directs me to the sofa 115 degrees outside trees heat...
like our pets a baby first bites and tastes the world as they grow their mouths move in with their feelings then add thoughts eventually...
for the unlined notebook for pages so open and friendly solitary confinement is unusually cruel any kind of attention is welcomed inky...
first time guests always gently knuckle the door stiff-fingered handshakes two-worded politeness silent as cubed ice cheese and crackers...
just another 4th of July parades fireworks backyard barbeques there’re complaints on the other side of the fence a neighbor you can’t...
not sure I’d recognize him younger than he is now the accumulation of years not reflected in his schoolboy curiosity and bookbag of...
a different playing field calls us as we age the horizontal going to be bed early sleeping in taking naps sofa-slouching those...
the lonely night bird sings for the sleepless darkness the bleary-eyed moon
the barest shoulder of a sunrise dawn in a negligée Gracie Oliver and I pass a picture window three aged walkers walking old legs...
it upsets me more when they steal one mango over a box of poems this is a fruit that always brings smiles passed from one hand to another...
it was a very hot the day he decided to stay in the air-conditioning clean house do something with those memories the faces of old...