Thursday, December 30, 2010

Four Haiku for the Old Year


Footsteps already
fading beneath moving feet
remind us we move.

Latticework of trees
against pale December sky—
Spring will fill these holes.

Summer memories
already fading to white,
like my fading hair.

The heater kicks on,
and my eyes again open:
at least one more day!

Monday, December 27, 2010

One Week After the Solstice

So cold the air
across my skin,
vibrating strings
of harp frozen
beneath the snows
outside the town
the old mad king
dedicated
to a dead god
pagan, alone,
and forgotten,
empty and white
as Alaska,
or as tonight.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

After a Movie, After Some Wine

In the corner, past the cobwebs,
the room’s angles ramble into focus
so sharp even you can see.

In that moment you’ll live forever,
all regrets and plans left behind
on those receding planes and lines.

You’ll melt, slowly begin to flow, like desire,
the way you once slid across her slick skin,
like sweat, like shadows, like goodbyes.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Vow

I close-to died in my arms tonight,
Choking on my barbed betrayal,
Wishing my tongue absent, ablaze,
Luminescent as the lie I told.
Stumbling on the clumsy curb,
I resolve to once again fall silent,
Go live amongst the fallen leaves
And other scattered, unsung heroes.

Thursday, December 2, 2010

And Once Again: Advent

The last of the birthday cake
plunged into the trashcan
as the three pennies in my pocket
howled at the teapot moon.
Meanwhile,
my Shih Tzu fell back asleep,
my wife logged back on,
my daughter checked out,
and I found myself wandering,
as I’ve often always done,
up and down Escher’s stairs,
panting in ragged rhythm to
the spectacular deaths of the stars.