living as one shadow and many deaths :: is this my strange unrest

 

 

how many dreams of rain end a life

how many walls are liquid at dawn

who wrote the moon until

it bled round

 

when do the dead break into light

when did our poems cease writing the sea

how many abandoned awakenings

sleep inside a seed

 

where in my flesh does absence nest

where did the earth first breathe

why does my shadow walk on his knees

 

when did our poems cease writing the sea

 

when a bell breaks into light :: whose center is almost still

 

how many dreams of rain end a life

 

who wrote the moon until it bled round

more haikoan published in the The Inflectionist Review, issue 14

 

was it life that shaped then :: sealed my eyes

 

whose eye is the distance to every dream

whose flower is the depth of my well

when i am the river, who

will i drown

 

beginning as a silent chorus :: how does death become a rose

how many come to where the last snow ends knowing :: they have died here before

 

who first used rain to seed the earth with change

 

upon the field where crows shed their wings :: am i shadow

 

how many windows between me and the moon

 

new haikoan have been published by Heliosparrow

 

 

when did my eyes become those clouds that :: grayed childhood skies

is moon at night a silent hall and :: chorus of the dead

 

 

will i be shore or between :: when arrives what cannot dream

 

if i return to rest in a seed :: won't my fields come searching for me

 

when was the shadow of a sigh just snow

 

is the dreamlessness inside me visible :: to those who will never be

how far from her moon :: shall the sleeper wander

 

what is death if my ashes can rise into a blood-warm sky

 

 

when is a circle of stone too great for my soul

 

when colors die are they laid to rest :: in a bliss as white as the moon

crossing by river or drowning by bridge :: shall i visit the same dead

 

why are children who will never bear a child :: the lullaby that i sing

 

 

i beheld a bell breaking into light :: but what did the sleepers hear

 

Two Haikoan published in Right Hand Pointing issue 146!

 

whose eye shall fill my light with sun

 

by what power does the dark pull of the moon :: become our silver light

 

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

 

Four haikoan published by Heliosparrow.

 

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

 

prayer kneels down

wind builds a nest

for the passenger you carry without knowing

 

There's been a poem published in NOON 17 & 18.

 

why does the clearest water

stop a knife from bleeding

when did my soul begin to repeat

the migration of cranes

how does one gather seeds

that have drifted into another day

how much earth must i lose

to wear the moon's white shoe

 There's been a poem published in Right Hand Pointing, Issue 141.

where is the river that will cleanse my oceans of sorrow

 

 

in a world that renounces moon, wind :: how shall my forests sway