Did the flower cause
The crack in the concrete, or
Merely exploit it?
Autumn
Stress is the cleaver
That hacks the flesh from my bones,
With a direct correlation
Between
The weight
On my mind,
And the weight shed
From my body.
Like a tree in autumn,
Retreating inward,
My body is folding in on itself,
Conserving its core,
Until a new season
Of blossom.
black & white
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4 Year Cycles of Self-Upheaval (3 part haiku)
Time and memory
Converge toward a single point.
Where did I begin?
Forever foreign;
Home’s distance beyond distant.
When did this begin?
Reinvent the wheel;
Freedom from the familiar.
Where do I begin?
Five Seven Five
There is great power
In the act of limiting
The ingredients
Of our creativity.
Bounds amplify art.
The great shapers knew:
Harmony comes from balance,
Relating fixed forms
In patterns through time and space.
Melodies from scales,
Awakenings on canvas
Born from fixed palettes.
Our minds are the bounds
Limiting each new frontier…
But art shines within.
Reflecting the eternal
Creative power.
~r
Unwrote
Our next pages are blank
like untracked snow
We must patiently travel to learn
The stories of years we’ve yet to live
And wisdom we’ve yet to earn
~r
Lost Forest
A name was quietly erased today.
A name pulled from the records with no added explanation,
A name slipped away from our collective sub-conscious.
Illness gives way to absence, absence becomes prolonged indifference,
Prolonged indifference gives way to questioned existence,
A name is all that ties one to existence.
A name was quietly erased today.
Opportunity Cost
For a simple exchange, my good sir, you may buy:
A slick, polished future, with views from on high.
A seat in a chair so soft and so right,
When you get there you’ll never remember the fight.
Or the things that you loved that you missed on your way,
Up this hill where on top is that big, bright “Some Day.”
You’ve made a fine choice my discerning, new friend,
For a much grander future awaits you in the end.
All I need from you now, to make best come to be,
Is to pay for your dreams with a low one-time fee.
It’s all waiting for you, so act now! Don’t delay!
Success can be yours!
…The price is today.
~r
Miss you haiku
Jordan, come back home.
Those people are crazy dude
Rocky Mountain high
Portraits Age in Reverse
Here, explanation offered:
I, as memory, is only time.
Time only is memory.
As I offered explanation here.
~r
Swing Set
The joy of creation,
can only be known,
against a backdrop of sedation.
The pains of the artist,
with too much to say,
are dulled through the mind’s masturbation.
* * *
The seasons turn swiftly,
seeds planted… some grow,
while others rot trapped in hard clay.
The life lived tomorrow,
so seductive and bright,
forever outrunning today.
* * *
Serpant selves shedding skins,
twice born in a day,
thin shells and old eyes never missed.
Once catching a glimpse,
of a muse waxing high,
pulling with it the tides of our bliss.
~r
The Eastbound Haiku
What no one tells you:
Once off the ground, the earth spins
Away beneath you.
So it goes.
Does the wave question
Its own existence as it
Rolls back to the sea?
8.1.12 Afternoon
standard rain drops plummet down
the old caress of concrete
embedded in memory
(there is a fire in a park outside the city beneath the bench in the soil)
something emblazoned across the mind,
like a scar buried under legal bound
photocopies
(we fell in love in that flame within the camera you stole)
Coming home
in some way
Untitled
oh how the scores of light so bright
flicker quick and slow down my plight
i need to visit the youth of what
i need to see stretched out so taught
i once knew the way i was
i tell myself i’ll be there again
i’m heading north for to be alone
i wanna heal my mind and my bones
my legs were tired i fell in the snow
took off my pack, couldn’t move any more
slower and slower my thoughts grew dull
i was too far from home, asleep and alone
one dream over and over so dense
roaming the plains putting up my defense
sweet summer fruit no where to be seen
i’ll never taste the air, never breathe in