Thanks to Gabriela Marie Milton, editor at MasticadoresUSA, for this publication:
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Masticadores
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Tag Archives: Year of the Butterfly
In the beginning
I haven’t seen you in 20 years
except in my mind’s eye
the hurricane center of the hot black night
when I slip to our trip to
Galveston. We drove all night,
knowing already it was the end,
and rode the ferry at daybreak,
the sound of the sea and the sad
cry of the gulls
scored upon us.
Then earlier, the southward journeys
past rice farms and shrimping towns
the thick humid patio nights
catching lizards
and laughing.
And earlier still, in the beginning
when we took LSD and lay
all night in a field of sugar cane
tasting the forbidden fruit
afraid
but liking it
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Lost song for Meng Jiao
I too have seen the winter stream,
waves beating the swords
of ice, dreamed
of imperial jade, green and blue,
of topaz the color of honey.
Cold streams crumple
the ragged banks of dreary forest,
Above the stream the swells of snow,
Further still, the stars by time and distance frozen,
as far away as your language from mine,
as your solitude from mine.
Spring comes on apace.
The waves beat harder. The swords
of ice break like paper branches. We turn
inward, you and I, creatures of the winter, to seek
someone or something approaching,
cold comfort in translation, here,
the icy clarity of the mirror.
Meng Jiao (751–814) was a Chinese poet during the Tang Dynasty.
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#1, #2, or #3
Here are 3 versions of the haiku poem I posted last week. No need to read the original post. Just pick one of the 3 here 🙂
#1
a million falling
stars at once, filling the sky,
hands catch the hot ash
#2
a million falling
stars at once, filling the sky,
the ash they leave us
#3
what dreams may come
A million falling stars
at once, like angels they light
the sky against darkness, but some
thing is wrong. Unlike angels they burn.
Open your hands. You can already
feel, maybe taste,
the hot ash.
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a million falling
a million falling
stars at once, filling the sky,
hands catch the hot ash
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More availables
Also on Amazon at linked covers below.
Fine Art Haiku
rough seas framed in art
white sand on cool skin touches
our side of the glass
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