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Wolfku

Non-self observing
the self: creeks, rivers, chasms
Dark scales fall away

::

Sated Earth, you’ve had
your fill of lives and lives and
lives—insatiable

::

Rolling off a log
For compulsive balancers
Not an easy task

::

Warm rain. Strawberries,
too drunk to care, mold away.
She surveys damage

::

One by one
shed identities
dry snake skins
gather at my feet

::

One wing broken
Useless weight
Soft landing unlikely

::

A fresh-view intake
once wide open
all clogged up now
by ego

::

In a sea of green:
a smidgeon of yellow
Illegal immigrant

::

The Bible, Quran
Pali Canon, the Vedas:
So many words

::

In an empty room
An absence of many things
A presence of none

::

Infatuation
Five devious syllables
invading the heart

::

Cow in sparrow cloud
Brown, feathered
bovine thoughts

::

Red sun
Cows unconcerned
Green breakfast

::

Hawk wings
absolutely still
Eyes of purest greed

::

My body: my car
doors welded shut

::

1 death = tragedy
x 1,000,000 = statistic
Koba's = hope

::

So still...
A moth hiccups

::

Immeasurably large
Immeasurably small
Man caught in-between

::

One sun sets
A trillion suns
instead

::

A pair—

What purpose have you
said the sun to the skylark
—To stir the sleeper

What purpose have you
said the skylark to the sun
—To steer the seeker

::

Testosterone sings
wild, mechanical horses
A sunflower turns

::

Killing as hobby
Ending life as stress relief
Hatred bound in skin

::

The rhythm of meals
The rhyme of routine
the day as dance, as poem

::

The word of God in
the summer heat...
He died from a dirty needle

::

A flock of small birds
alights to feed—quaint, thought I
Dragons, thought the ant

::

Many yesterdays
move about—talking, laughing
I’m trying to sleep

::

I am an island
I stand on the ocean floor
obstinate, windswept

::

To eat what has bled
to feed you is a killing
by distant proxy

::

Among ships, this name
is only whispered—their word
for death: Gadani

::

The grand piano
sprinkles beauty in the air
Keith Jarrett’s fingers

::

The air was so still
I heard the trees exhale their
fine, fresh oxygen

::

Two crows side by side
She’s giving him an earful
He’s blinking a lot

::

Her forbearance is
saintly, seeding her heart with
wonderful future

::

A thousand horses
Manes of spray and nostrils foam
Hoofs cresting, landing

::

My blood is happy
With every lungful of air
So many new friends

::

A ray of darkness
appeared, shining the dust motes
from angels to bats

::

The long, lazy wave
lands on the crescent shore with
a white, blissful smile

::

There is no greater
beauty, nor love more profound
than this: mind to mind

::

A Gordian knot
With no Alex to cut it
That is what life is

::

Each night, the tide dreams
a new sandy masterpiece
for dawn to cherish

::

Pelicans fishing
Rising, diving, splash, rising
Glorious killers

::

Pigeons strain and flap
their mostly inefficient
airborne miracles

::

The flower, loudly
to the bee: pick me, pick me
So many choices

::

Out there, on the rim
Where the ocean falls away
sits God, feet dangling

::

What do they live for
the ants, the bees, the spiders?
Small joys and sorrows

::

The Northern Lights of
Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in
D-Minor: My home

::

Young man meets woman
In a sexless equation
Do they still attract?

::

I tread memory
Soft and treacherous carpet
Falling, falling through

::

The two guides I trust
to lead me through this life are
Frugal and Simple

::

Pages, red pages
History: vast and pregnant
with man killing man

::

The startled haiku
found and nursed and pruned and loved
Audible bonsai

::

Put in a small box
They named it me, wrapped it tight
with soft steel ribbons

::

Waiting for the sun
A thousand lilies, heads bowed
Listening for light

::

Too often these days
I don’t apologize, I
look for Control-Z

::

My morning poem
Alive from lack of this world
Come evening she’s dead

::

Shiny metal skin
These animals have round legs
and very bad breath

::

He lied: a crime worse
than killing—for trusting him
we could die and die

::

A thousand strange rules
An alternate universe
some call Photoshop

::

The rose: tall and proud
The blade of grass: envious
The sky loves them both

::

Who made such a world
Where for one being to live,
another must die?

::

The seagull through fog
Silent, airy, wing—wing steps
Fainter, into white

::

One bark, many chirps
The fog is dense this morning
Voices carry well

:: 

If life is motion
Breathing: the atom and quark
Then everything lives

::

I saw Chris Squire’s bass
It looked like Jacob’s ladder
Cautioning the sky

::

After the light rain
Released by a grateful Earth
My nose so happy

::

Tweet, tweet, chirp, tweet, tweet
Tweet, chirp, tweet, tweet goes the bird
So she knows haiku?

::

An edge, a leaning
Trunk and roots: a fierce grasping
Wishing he could fall

::

A song ends too soon
An ear is still catching up
Who was that color?

::

A wide-open gate
hinges rusted brown with years
Who left it open?