Grow my little love
Beyond and bigger than me
Your strength mine delight
The Clear
Those pockets full with what trouble?
Bulging
Dragging on the classic, red Super Sport of you
Discovering nothing great by the time all is said
And done and the credits roll
Empty that
Leaving a trail of the bits as you walk through
To the clear
Like Palm Trees: A Haiku
Poetic I weave
I weave deep into my grand
My grand delusion
Bellwether
This Day again
And this place
Here I move happily up That Hill
At an easily difficult pace
On account of my heart
And all that it hopes and hoped
I close my eyes to make a wish
A steady shutter
A sturdy tripod
On solid ground
A bellwether
Are all that comes to mind
Blue Oil: A Haiku
That picture, taken
Hangs in someone’s heart elsewhere
But I keep searching
Common
Dark distance
Don’t go there
Or be led
By despairLet common
That you share
Make the way
For sweet air
received
In the morning
Later than now if not already
Well after you’ve stirred about
The smallest voice if not the thunder
Will call to you
Will you hear I’ve asked before
When it won’t go away notice
It’s resonance in your moving feet
That have come awake
In the morning
Go Fly
If I
At the ocean
Awakened at last
From the stagnant, salty air
Did then
Cut loose and blessed
A once-tethered
False-flying
Prismatic princess
Would the gods of wind and sea
Worship me
Boston Block
The walk upstairs to the house of old
Revealed
A welcome sensation
For an instant I longed
To receive its four pillars -columns standing true, proud
As my own
The chipped whitewash there and warped, seeded glass panes
Endeared me more, if possible
Than the western orientation, southern gardens and Boston Block
My four-legged friend thought to stay
At last!
But inside, too-small appointments
Welcome: A Haiku
The morning dances
The stuff of my good daydreams
The sun-filtered rooms
