my words

Month: January, 2014

my words, my world

New blog avatar and cover photo.


Haiku #5: hypoglycemia

hard heartbeats
fickle, she dances.
numb fingers


Haiku #4

Is it love
or ego?



Find the night-silence
in the quiet;
the still point that exists
outside the hours
and textures of the day.
Become the stillness,
become Omphalos,
and the world and heavens
turn about you.
Surrender, return
to unity beyond judgment
or duty or desire;
beyond self.
For an instant,
just a moment
then return
and tell us your stories.


Haiku #4

Why haiku?
Brevity is hard
to achieve.  

Sweet Justine

Oh my sweet Justine,
always chasing a dream
and trying to put it to paper.
Hey, barefoot Justine,
these streets can be hot and mean.
Oh, sweet Justine.

Sitting alone in the park,
trying to leave just a mark
on the virgin-white page,
to escape from the cage,
and the dogs as they angrily bark.
Don’t they know you can see in the dark?

And the stupid ones point, and they laugh.
Can’t see the whole, just one half
of the things that you are.
Always chasing that star,
and you go where there isn’t a path
and you’ve laid down that dark, heavy staff.

Oh my sweet Justine,
tell me, what’s it all mean?
Don’t you know that they won’t understand?
Hey, barefoot Justine,
kick up your heels, girl, and dance.
Oh, sweet Justine.

And when they close their doors to you,
it’s because you’re already inside.
It’s just envy, you see –
the Justine they won‘t be.
The divine fool they once knew,
that dream they long ago slew,
the truth from which they still hide.

So just smile when they whistle and jeer,
ignore them, turn a deaf ear.
You know what is real,
and the things they can’t feel –
they’re so worried about looking queer.
You are always much more than you appear.

Oh my sweet Justine,
just keep on living the dream
and show them that it can be real.
Hey, barefoot Justine,
just keep on living the dream.
Oh, sweet Justine.


Haiku #3

Sharp.  These days
of empty longing
without you.


Haiku #2

Toy weapons.
Little boys will play,
become men.

Fortune Cookie #24

A woman who plans to come back doesn’t take her purse and coat to bathroom.


I’m working on a couple of longer-than-a-poem writings.  Will post them soon and they’ll count for the days I missed…