Janissary Moons Haiku

            Photo by Donald Tong on Pexels

blue marble, red leaf–
one plus one
is impossible

waiting for food
seeing myself
in the plate

blue glass marble
tocks down spiral stairs–
the  winter weight of Bach

missing child
blue marble
the weight of Bach

red maple--
the telephone
rings and rings

screen door bangs
the crows fly off
centuries of this

place where something cold
comes through her dad’s screen door
she’s young there

long after death
a marble rolls out
from under the fridge

icicles–
the pointed questions
night finds

red maple leaf–
imagine dying
without apology

lottery ticket
losing in the Bible
at his funeral

old screen door’s holes
chewed by dead dogs
as therapy

that place something
chewed through a screen door
she flirts there

wearing lipstick
to bed she drunk drives
in her dreams

MLK Day
the cold hurts
everyone’s skin

MLK day–
cold widens
a house’s cracks

MLK Day–
boy in a hoodie
we see his breath

the cold mixes
a horse’s breath
with mine

bloated deer
at the roadside
New Year’s Day

the crow screams
it’s the same–
New Year’s Day

roadside bloated deer
a moonlight fear
she’s pregnant

a shed roof–
thud of an apple
where no one lives

storm outage–
by candlelight
we listen for our power

healing morning walks
wading herons
a new setpoint

zero degrees
animal questions outside
just stop

two old men joke
about Tang hair the color
of spiderwebs

morning walk
trees wait
without questions

above the noise
of my dead mother’s voice
winter wind

pond’s edge–
a dried out rock bass
makes us wonder

winter karma–
a stray dog learns
where you live

roadside deer bloats–
a moonlight fear
she might be pregnant

winter stillness–
more stories emerge
from a dead friend

Hokkaido snow cranes
some people have no ideas
but in postures

moon in ass-less chaps
introduces you
to its best friends

crossing death’s beach
tonight crabs in their millions
get by on moonlight

long dead friend
dark tunnel we enter
to hear the echoes

skipping stones–
how quickly water
heals its scars

what he drew
on his cell wall
he licked all night

another new year
another cell
trying to find its nun

old paint in cells–
dream women
peel away

midnight sun
at the famed waterfall
we yawn together

rain all week–
craving a movie
in black and white

spring cemetery–
a boy on a ten speed
pedals backwards

dead mall
we shop
for silences

watching snow fall–
all the letters
never answered

snow drifts
in a dark Shaker village–
quietude come home

on your tongue
a snowflake’s
Shaker quietude

icy rain
things we say
only to death

late at night
suddenly you change lanes
in bed

on all fours
gathering wild berries
a stranger smiles

make stranger sex
great again–
don’t wear MAGA hats

people won’t admit
if the best sex
was ghosts

up all night
thinking about Sting’s
carbon footprint

wind
blows the leaves
you feel connected

the snail
living alone–
it feels convoluted

donating the pants
you leave his good luck coin
in the pocket

sunny day
the spider in its web
feels beautiful

spider in a web–
being alive
requires a system

your dead loves–
oysters on bay cultch
grow pearls in moonlight

distant blue mountains–
stealing the neighbor’s
wifi

full moon
owns the window–
unapologetic

sometimes the shadow
is just better
than the object

t.v. news in brief—
more violence
more apologies

empty classroom
hand feels a paper cutter’s
guillotine nostalgia

sudden wind
across the lake’s moonlight–
no one left to tell

feeling legs kick
under you a lake’s
moonlight shifts

police diver
surprised to find the river
fully furnished

standing and dripping
in the rain this tree
and me

the empty side
of the duplex–
hearing moonlight

empty room–
we stare at the suicide’s
leftover moonlight

dead shark washed ashore–
here’s to those who refuse
to explain their lives

street’s freezing
you tell an owner-less dog
to go home

your death day again
the telephone wires
sag with ice

no one home
years now
but a doorbell’s glow

frozen bird feeder–
sparrows eat closer
to those they dislike