November 5, 2009

Welcome to the Wonderland Amusement Park.  Santa took the day off, the concessionaire's out of cold beer, and no one sells giant plastic sunglasses in overcrowded shops smelling like sea salt.  The typhoon's come and gone, I'm waiting for the internet to switch back on, watched John Woo's movie, Red Cliff, at a local theater,and sipped two frozen margaritas watching the last half of a Steven Segal movie that'd stopped due to a brown-out. A normal day for most, but when you're haunted by dragons and ghosts, live inside of a Salvadore Dali painting, dance with Frida Kahlo, and suffer from PTSD, nothing's what it seems.

the night's last

showing of red cliff . . .

and the two

next to us don't stand for

the national anthem

that smile . . . 

your understanding

of the wind

you love to

look at yourself and

know you still 

have what it takes to

make the fog roll in

pregnant, you 

fall through a dream

into spring

to the full 

moon on halloween

we raise

our spirits, the tide

in a hurry to leave

humid winter . . .  

he eats a bowl of rice 

before a mirror

miles davis'

flamenco sketches . . .

i sail through

the narrow straits of

a heart painted red

moon watching . . . 

stirring a bowlful 

of stars

bear with me

a minute,  while i

undress 

and prepare the 

moon's bath water

day lillies . . . 

a path covered with

moth wings

in a few

minutes we'll enter

the other's

breath, carrying

purple orchids

your shower . . .

an interim between

blossoms

like bamboo, 

your transformation

into a

nerve ending, hollow,

sheathing sunlight

deep water . . .

a tilapia bites

the moon

what is it

i want? a carp to

jump through hoops?

a monkey to

collect pennies?

basho falls

from heaven's river

. . . soundlessly

massaging your 

back, you drifted through clouds

into a deep 

pond swimming with koi

like a rainbow

winter, yes . . .

but spring inside

the heart

this morning

you thought of me as

an angel . . .

my wings wrapped softly

around your heart

unfold for

me again, the petals

of ... can be

an addict?

a dog in need

of a leash?

he plunges deeper

into madness

swaying grass . . .

a eulogy for

mute dogs

anxious to

journey into the 

farthest

reaches of the park

without a map

a kigo in

a land that's always

summer?

what to do

when wind and rain

force you to

swing from a limb

singing, Jesus loves me

a long winter . . .

and the absence

of worms

if i let

you go, albatross, 

bring to me

a children's story

without an end

robert d. wilson

©2009