tiny poems by Grant Hackett
is awakened our word for a seed that dies :: then is sown
how can night air on a branch of december :: have turned its face to me
where is the earth where i belong :: the night i hear cranes leave the world
how deep into death must i travel :: to reach the end of light
Four haikoan published by Heliosparrow.
won't we sleep every night of our death :: one stone away from the moon
will more than leaves on the ground remain :: once i am extinguished by rain
where is the poem in which i cross paths with the sea :: returning home to our island
where is the grave of the autumn :: from which i never returned
how old is light that cannot support the weight of falling leaves
will mice come to live in every room of my death
is empty sky
work i haven't begun
if i eat dark clouds
whose path am i on
holding a branch of rain
how many will i be
will the poem i am buried in :: be the weave of my last words
if the death i believe in also dies :: where do black moths fly
let wild seed wake before the rain grows old :: before the moon is shut out of your heart
out of touch with the world but close to bone :: a window for dawn
though i never feel cold salt waves :: all my life i am read by the sea
a sun comes up where no sun existed :: that morning is not to be solved
when sky's cut down above the elm :: won't i shed my leaves and limbs
A selection of ku written in response to prompts in April and now published by Heliosparrow.
why is sunlight inside the sparrow :: older than the sun
between dahlia and dahlia i find all things :: forgotten by the ripening light
knowing your purpose is the fall of rain :: how gently can you live
how pure must the wounding be :: to stop my knife from bleeding
by rhythm of sorrow or rhythm of snow :: has the world known your soul
we know so little about the journey :: when canyon smells of moon and mind
it will smell like snow :: last house standing :: that draws your darkness out
between the soul and its autumn :: all time can be found
into the mist
your life left behind
i never arrive
beneath my house of memory :: a wind of unknown depth
morning :: in every direction :: my face losing sight of the shore
in love's one tear
filling the whole flesh
hear me
the story is strange :: the stream i walk in, beyond reach
shall the dead in our eyes see only clear skies
seedling of another species :: is the language that i speak
why is the mottled sun a sickness of my eye
who dares to know their eggshell guards an unenlightened dawn
i remember
trees in joy
and the sane wonder of being mown
three sequence poems published today by Heliosparrow!
spirit jumping from puddle to blood—
and inside my trees
a joyful scream
sweet blood drawn into dawn :: robinsong
can bumblebee pull your sun underground
if i lie silent at night
won't rain hear my heart
what is the mark of a child
in whom the sea has been crossed
upon how many crosses before your death
has the midnight sun appeared
by whom do my broken branches become a vernal cross
in the bedroom of the epidemic will my devotion to sky end without dawn
was my shadow a bird :: in the desert i could have been
is crocus the flesh where your absence nests
should promises of snow empty the world of white
whose rose is brewed in the skull of the moon
when i am wordless shall my voice :: unfold within the ears of the dead
what color of rose is waiting for my name
how did moss find its way to the roof of night
if the moon returns to life :: where shall i hide my heart
shall my wandering forever be :: naked to the touch of a moon
who put my birth into the hollow of a tree
will the rose behind your eyes ever come ashore
is the loss of one who has no place
found in water or wind
how does one search darkness
for a midnight from the past
for how many years can one fall inside the moon
shall all suns hold inside
a dawn that was never alive
Three poems published by Heliosparrow on 2/12/21!!
is awakened the word
for a seed that dies, then is sown
when i believe in what wind listens for
why does my nest unravel
can anyone else open a poem
to the fate of its reader
when i fold my eyes until they are smaller than light
is that the end of a day
if i could read the book of twilight would
earth return my child
who else sweeps their garden
to see what a whisper sees
why can't the touch of a thorn
be divided into infinite light
and why can't i grow light
from a seed
when all that is dust returns to song
where will i be found
upon the death of the mortal vine :: shall my veins grow new wine
when we turn against the sea
how many deserts appear
when the poem sheds its final skin
why does one still have to wait for dawn
for how many lives after i am gone
will my heart come searching for me
how many years have fallen
along the path between two autumns
is the leaf falling through my shadow
also my shadow
and when my rain bleeds to death
whose poppies are fed
when night coughs
can you taste your birth
are my skies too many to bury
why is shadow the shortest route
to unexpected light
where is the river
to cleanse my oceans of sorrow
how many dawns
have tied a prayer
to my rose
why are there species of flame
found only in our dreams