Thursday, November 12, 2009

November 12, 2009

Some days are darker than others, the moon on leave from his senses, the sun screwing the neighbor's husband, the world around me, a mirror I wish others would smash into a thousands pieces, using each piece to compose something better than the last. I wander like a drunk in and out of sanity or at least another's version of it, as we are all insane in some way or another, but conditioned to keep our laundry in the laundry room and cover the stink with the new and improved Tide with this year's designer scent. Some more poems: tanka, haiku, and senryu, mixed in with a haiga Norman Rockwell would run from in terror. Or at least claim he did. The Wonderland Amusement Park, where life is frank, Tide isn't used, and the self righteous and politically motivated avoid. Enter at your own risk.

this morning,
the sun couldn't rise
high enough . . .
she'd enter the room
with a fertile smile

the shadows
of bamboo trees . . .

time spent
together this morning,
blossomed . . .
the chinese new year,
3 months away

ant, what's
it like to be

brown on brown . . .
men tilling the dirt with

how can i
put into words
the flight of
an egret tilling
rice paddy shadows?

haiku: fill in
the blanks

every day
without a break,
our worker
allows us to eat
the world for pesos

hazy dusk . . .
her smile this morning,
reigned in

i though of
contacting her again
but couldn't . . .
i'm teaching a good friend
to look in the mirror

old ninja,
why do you eat
buttered clams?

sometimes i
wonder why she doesn't
text me, the
air around me thick
with burning leaves

orchids . . .
tree climbing in
our back yard

what will i do
when balance trips
on an echo
and the chasm below
me speaks in tongues?

lonely dog . . .
the residents here
aren't stars

will the snake
bite me again?
the walls,
a drive-in movie
without popcorn?

this mind
traveling between stars . . .

the sun lies
low, as if to remind
me of my
daughter's anger for
cinderella's step mom

morning yawn . . .
winter affirms life
with yoga

am i the
serpent, the creature
that conned eve
into eating the
forbidden fruit?

stair at me
dog, i am the melon
that killed you

swallow me
catfish, digest me
me in the
plates wrestling the
under world

she brings me
red orchid blossoms . . .
sans dark dreams

fuck you, mirror
the jokes on me, i
fail myself
and everyone else, a
rotting winter melon

sick dog, teach
me to persevere
the whispers

i live in
a wonderland even
alice wouldn't
fall into, the stench of
rotting corpses

your ticket to
hell and back

in the pail
your reflection's
a serpent
waiting to pull you
into it's spell

still the wind . . .
i become a brown
cracking leaf

the clouds on
makiling, a spell
she can't shake
off, wonderland's
newly built ride

the clacking,
bamboo, and your . . .

in the rice
field of my mind
i swim through
reflections dali
had issues with

still water . . .
only karma
to look at

robert d. wilson

1 comment:

  1. Robert,

    This one kind of turns back on itself in a sudden and surprising manner....Thank you

    i thought of
    contacting her again
    but couldn't...
    i'm teaching a good friend
    to look in the mirror


Please feel free to make comments.

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.