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 . . .
tattoed


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


ant, what's
it like to be
celibate?


brown on brown . . .
men tilling the dirt with
carabao


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

tonight's
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 . . .
sanity?


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


wonderland?
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 . . .
stillness


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
©2009