Haiku and Tanka
“Overly succinct occurs so rarely in this world I'm not even sure I would recognize it if I saw it.”
~ Allen Branton
Universe crumbles.
We continue to evolve.
Entropy’s error.
Who? What? When? Where? How?
These are practical questions.
Why? is a disease.
Torpor. Holy Shit.
But Emotional Torpor!
Probably not good.
Could it be all me?
If Anger = Butter
Does the whole thing stop?
Well, po lo menús
I got a good pair of pants.
For this I give thanks.
I feel like I have
Existential PMS
Is that a thing doc?
Santa, I want a
remote control butterfly
that glows in the dark.
So I maced the dog.
You know, teach her a lesson.
She’s a tough old bitch.
Birds are really cool.
I could watch them forever.
And probably will.
The protestor’s sign
begins with the words “God hates…”
Could the rest matter?
For the paucity
of offerings, it’s a bit
like riding a bomb.
This is the first place
I could always tell the time
Looking at the Stars
Flag the second guess!
There’s a reason it is there.
Best to make a third.
Friend, never forget.
There is no such thing as your
“objectivity”.
- NOW - Today is the
Tomorrow you were worried
about Yesterday.
There is no past. There is no
future. Look around. You’re Here!
Caiman, Taimen, what’s
the difference? They both eat
my flies; I Love that.
Stalactite yoga’s
Post-apocalyptic charm.
Swerving Ninja
Couch Time with you, my
Amazing and Beautiful
Little Girl, is Pure Love!
Human beings are
masters of suffering; all
songs are the same song.
Only Khadizhat
could reply to my question,
“Birch parasite tea”.
Late summer evening
golden Light with only hints
of Breeze, Here and There
Dancing in circles
spinning laps around the Sun
Always Sitting Still
Humans. Jesus. We
are all so predictable.
It’s ridiculous.
Masturbating apes
and their nuclear warheads…
Alas, Babylon
Tired of being tired.
Tired of saying I am tired.
Let the wavelength rise.
Too many pieces
moving in all directions.
I’ll sit this one out.
Then I could hear the
Universe breathing, through
it’s exchange between
the atmosphere and all the
Plants. Incredible.
God is Dreaming - All
And we are within that Dream.
All. All. All. All. All.
Time only exists
as a concept in our minds
born of illusion.
Learning to just sit,
just be, doing nothing else,
is quite a process.
Rio Pico, Damn,
just Damn. I mean What The Fuck?
Puts me in my place.
But we All have our Places.
I have many. This is one.
One thing seems to be
certain – The Universe likes
to laugh at itself.
Dark Days come and go
as do the Days filled with Light.
This will never end.
Google Earth - such an
amazing tool, but both a
blessing, and a curse.
The head of a pig
Is what’s in the flower box
He said to the child.
When I read the news
I always have to decide
Should I cry? Or laugh?
Wallowing in a
muddy pig-pit of self-doubt
The question is, why?
My Friend, you and I
operate like a pair of
opposable thumbs.
This needs no explanation
But it’s appreciated.
So many people
here, where once there were so few.
But should I be sad?
Let’s stop punishing
each other. Never solves the
problem. Next chapter->
Raging, rambling purge
Please forgive me. And thanks. I
hope it didn’t hurt.
A Disappointment
implies an Expectation.
Which is the defeat?
My only problem
with Russia, is the Russians.
The Land is lovely.
Round and round we go,
spinning, through the meat-storm of
human existence.
Tak. Tak. What the Fack.
Tak. Tak. Goose. Babushka’s a
Rapper, on the loose.
These moments, colors,
like dots in a mosaic,
tell the stories of
our lives. But they say nothing,
not a word, of who we’ll be.
Evolution and
entropy - lines describing
polar progressions
She says I drink too
much non-alcoholic beer!
To have such problems!
Always seems I am
wandering, wandering through
the eyes of needles
I’ve made chili from
Deer, Hares, Stag, and Guanaco.
All make Spicy Toots
Life is hard, I think.
And that’s just the way it is.
For everybody.
White banded pigeon
pallet, seeds, a stick, and string -
breasts and veggie stew.
Twenty years later
“Awful big guns for squirrels”
still makes me giggle.
Beloved Friend - still
burying your misery
beneath your glory?
You are Welcome in My House
Whenever you choose to come.
“What were you learning?”,
she asked. “‘The hard way’, I think
is what they call it”.
Rain makes me happy
when it comes at the right time -
cleansing, bringing green.
Asleep in a tent
under the stairs in my house
dreaming what comes next.
Hair trigger - watch out.
It’s one of those days with the
giggling demons.
Dance. Dance. Dance! Living
Light in motion ~ the Whole of
the Universe in
sync ~ Join us in this brilliant
Celebration of the One.
Entropy swings both
ways. Order and disorder
each definable
through our own subjective terms.
The semantics of physics
The Ocean makes me
question the trajectory
I’ve allowed my Life.
Between those two points
The shortcut is forgiveness
There’s no other way
Right or Left? Which Way?
Hit wall. Lose Focus. Raft flips.
Cañón de Gato
Yoga, or running?
Maybe I’ll just take a nap.
Good ol’ exercise...
What do tadpoles eat?
I’ll have to feed them when I
get home. Goldfish food?
The idiocy
of mankind is astounding.
I mean,... WHAT - THE FUCK?
Russian butt fungus?
“Mushroom suppository”
Prescribed by my wife.
Our lifelong façade
a montage of suffering
what then lies beneath?
“I have many friends
of African persuasion”
says the president.
Green fire! Green Fire! Dad!
GREEN FIRE! Aya’s excitement
warms my old cold heart.
It took a while but
I’ve learned over the years to
beware of hippies.
It’s not that they have any
bad intentions, per se, just...
“Your thumb is greener
than a Leprechaun booger”
John texts. Meanwhile the
Mimosa, Ayahuasca
and Huachuma grow taller.
“What’s going on here?”
“The Universe is Dreaming.
Has been, all along.”
Puddle in the yard
“The grass is taking a bath”,
Aya says. Of course!
Like a mouse without
a trampoline - a feller
cry, and moan, and wail.
Onwards and upwards
Sideways, as the case may be
But no going back.
I’d not have noticed
the girl, had she not been so,…
Callipygian.
I shit you not man
Dude’s name was Happy Pancake
My Grandpa told me
Why am I awake?
Is it from too much coffee?
Like, twelve hours ago?
I’ll never forget
the night the ducks liked bubbles
Earth and swamp, trembling.
What do I make of
this series of betrayals?
Surely, a lesson.
Friend – of you I now
release all expectations,
with that gaining strength.
So as it turns out,
the hills ARE alive! When we
use them as “today”.
Moment of sadness
The last of the Copenhagen,
tucked behind my lip.
Why do we get old?
We know time doesn’t exist
yet our bodies age…
Kickin’ back in my
three-seat suite, emergency
exit row too. It’s a
lucky flight this time for sure.
I wish you could be here too.
Buck deer snort. Blow. Stomp.
Stare. What is it that you’ve heard?
Twigs beneath my boot?
an illusion, there is no
falling - long or short.
Time like the ripples of a
tossed stone, thrown into water.
What would we have thought
all those years on the river
if we’d been shown this?
This emoticon
of the swearing unicorn
was an accident
Crying in a tent
on a river in the rain
I should not have left
The Farm on my mind
Wood Ducks, Venison, Guns, Friends
And fires at midnight
“My butt hole smells like
roses, and my butt smells like
butt hole”, said Aya
Bison made of fire
A skunk, sitting on his head
What will he do next?
Sometimes a Fella
just gotta’ sit in a chair
out in the garden
with the cats and the gnats and
the weeds all alone, at dusk.
“Relax your standards”
I said to myself one night.
Then the weight lifted.
I shall call this place
(the Princess’s grand estate)
The House of Gossip
The fat sister of
Mila Jovovich must have
a difficult life.
Everywhere, Light!
The entire Universe shines,
God’s One - Spinning - Dance...
“All of this was an
unnecessary major
re-route.” Yeah. No shit.
Thailand’s tourism
It’s kind of like Gatlinburg
But much smellier.
The angry Buddhist
monk glares, sweeping tourists’ shoes
from the temple steps.
A Buddhist temple
and a Nun picking her nose
The catfish laughing.
Fucking Tokyo
May I never see this place
again in my Life.
The Buddha was right
Life is endless suffering
This we must accept
In Malibu. These
people irretrievably
ensconced in their own
bullshit. I pet the Shivas’
heads, and wonder what they think.
In Pasadena.
Trying not to pass judgement…
but this shit is nuts.
What is “righteousness”?
Does it serve us? If so, how?
We all hurt sometimes.
My Soul keeps yearning
I’ve no idea what for
Always wanting, more!
Suffering is life
But is this sufferable?
Do limits exist?
Sensing this dark cloud
settling in, all around us.
I say bring the wind.
These days my life is
like a Lightnin’ Hopkins song.
See I gots the blues
The B-L-U-E-S blues!
And there ain’t no gettin’ out.
Expectations, the
Enemies of Happiness,
should be avoided.
Her body dancing,
rippling in undulations,
sings, like a bison.
In Mongolia
the wind came through the forest
carrying spirits
like the hordes of Chinggis Khan,
passing us without concern.
Am I really here
lying down in Don Pedo
at the Berta ford?
Does the Tigre still exist?
And for that matter, do I?
When life has become
uncomfortably busy,
drink a cup of tea!
It is good to lay
awake in the tent a while,
before getting up.
Gravel, dust, boulders
and holes – on and on we drive
these broken oxen
smashing our trails through the world
bearing unbearable weights
Rain in Osorno
Swans and Teal in green pastures
Carp in rising ponds
faint beginnings of a laugh.
There’s nowhere to go.
dawn wood ducks flying,
walnuts, leaves, acorns falling,
gifts - autumn’s blessings.
When I first met you
neither of us questioned the
future we were shown.
Now, who sold you this anger?
And what did you pay for it?
Scale? Ha! Now see the
whole of the moon, reflected
in a drop of dew.
Khadizhat doesn’t
like to be inconvenienced.
It’s a thing with her.
I find shoehorns to
be highly suspicious. Why
do these things exist?
In a vacuum a
helium balloon falls at
the same speed as lead.
Mass doesn't matter, even
though matter is made of mass.
Snow on mountains
falling at dawn, showing us
our irrelevance
“I have no colon”
said the racist, “just so you
know”. What an asshole!
The sight of Tulga
in her pink cowboy boots and
Mongol dress, braided
hair and shielded smiling mirth
scuttling about, warms my heart.
All Life in motion
the universe is dancing
Light, manifested.
The Taimen rose, but
it doesn’t know how to eat.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The World – spinning – a
perpetually dynamic
pandemic Beauty
Heart yearning, longing
to describe just this ONE thing
but there are no words.
You ever gotten
a haircut, from a ninja?
I have. And it was
impressive, to say the least.
Mongol girls make scissors sing!
We’ve had it all wrong!
The universe is dreaming!
One ~ Conscious ~ Being.
Palm hearts taste just like
the diseased snowman’s penis,
or so I’ve been told.
If you had told me
“one day you’ll be pulling weeds
on a playground at
a mosque, without having been
asked to” I’d have said “you’re nuts!”
To be outworked by
a man of eighty two years
is humbling, at best.
Axe falls, wood splits, again
and again I am amazed.
When the shooting comes
it is a sign I am un-
certain of myself.
Travel on airlines
exhausts me in my old age.
Time to buy a boat.
Four decades of “age”
I can feel it in my bones
yet my mind resists.
To cease desire
one must escape even the
desire to cease it.
She’s “conditional”
in every sense of that word
which is annoying.
Then the Queen said:
“The diseased snowman’s penis
is, in fact, on fire”
With all due respect
(which is a lot), the desert
just is not for me.
I appreciate it, but
preferably from afar
Why can I not read!
My interest, passion, gone!
Fuzz, static, I’m lost!
Indomitable.
That’s the only word I have
to describe my wife.
In Chile cooking
french toast with butter which was
imported, from France
Suffering persists.
Acceptance of this is a
hard thing to swallow.
“Stop, STOP! Boat Nigger”
Said the client to the guide
But the guide didn’t.
“Fragile like a bomb”
This to describe an Angel
I once woke up to.
Sun rises. Wind blows.
Or not. It doesn’t matter.
Sometimes, it will rain.
Linearity
an illusion. And yet I’m
now eighteen, or worse.
The cost of doing
business in Rio Pico
is the town itself.
Yes, I am a dork.
I’m ready to embrace that.
An awesome dork though.
“So there’s this woodcock”
this was all he had to say
“see, the bird exists.”
This energy that
rises has nowhere to go.
On a new path now.
Fox, grouse, bear, and mouse
I have seen you all today.
Now I'm listening.
Wandering across
the landscapes of Alaska -
a double edged sword.
In a Universe
without a single straight line
humans make them up!
So what is this “world”
that many people speak of?
All I see are dreams.
I wonder now, if
all roads lead to the crow’s nest,
Who then, is the crow?
If I was alone
I would take a crap right now
and that would be that.
Hot water freezes
faster than does cold. I hope
we are not the same.
With Ayahuasca
all that matters is focus
and where we place it.
DNS records,
email client set-up codes,
What is all this shit?
The splitting of wood
with an axe, to make leña
is my only “work”.
My wife is the most
beautiful woman on Earth.
She makes my heart smile.
Dentists are sadists
Of this I am convinced
All of them, Fuckers
Aya papaya
my little Snooker Woodle,
words are not enough.
Black smoke of Cedar
Ol’ Boy sho like his nutmeg
Spring or Fall, the same.
Life has its wavelengths
Not an original thought
but true, nonetheless
It makes me happy
to see the people in Love
asleep, holding hands.
Smelly Jacuzzi
What can this possibly mean?
A fart, in the tub.
Dispassionate, yes.
Never having heard this word
I wonder, and smile.
“Fly Fishing Magnate!”
I assume this title now
for eternity.
Of a “gibbous” moon
I know nothing, nor of the
“buttery” brown trout.
Life has its chapters
for everyone, I suppose.
Mine just seem longer.
The task boils down to
expecting a miracle
as it always does.
Fish make sense to me.
Women, babies, not so much.
Story of my life.
It's a slow process...
this work of dismantling the
fossilized Karma.
Back in the grayness
of good ol’ mother Russia
One question remains…
Every day now
there are fewer words that come.
Silence prevailing.
Time is not linear.
It is a point that dances
in eternity.
Tufted Titmouse (mice)?
Can plural/dual-ity
even really be?
There will be sadness.
That’s the way it works, it seems.
But only sometimes.
Not sure what to say…
You see, life is pretty hard
when you make it so.
Life, is saltfish. But
sometimes also it is chai.
So at least there’s that.
So as it turns out
life is pretty much awesome -
when you let it be.
And now your breakfast
of cikory and syrok
my pregnant beauty.
About this waiting….
I guess what I’d like to know
is, when does it end?
It seems so simple:
Just decide to be happy.
Recognize this choice.
What is happiness?
What constitutes its presence?
And how is this known?
Yellow autumn leaf
falling gently, happily,
to the forest floor.
She says we’re soul mates.
Why am I surprised? Because
I know that she’s right.
All the time, you see,
Life is really beautiful.
Even when it’s hard.
And as usual
given my consistency,
here come the projects…
Defining beauty
as a concept, or a thing,
is a waste of time.
Instability
I command you to be gone
leaving me in peace.
Why is it so hard?
The path is clear and well-marked.
Yet we lose our way.
Over and over again.
Taking detours that make no sense.
And so here I am
back in Patagonia.
It the same, me not.
And then suddenly
down on the lake in Pushkar
there we were, married.
She says she’s a girl,
and that’s my sense as well
Woman though to come.
She owns a burqa.
It’s in storage in L.A.
What else? And why not?
Khadizhat. Named for
the first wife of Mohammad.
But then ~ who am I?
These explorations
through predetermined battles
expressing free will.
Of holding patterns
I am none too fond, for sure.
But see, this is life.
Tying up loose ends,
casting off all broken threads,
focus, now refined.
The Lima airport -
its early mornicity,
smelling like asshole.
“Pink” – “Mongolia”
Can these words be together?
Like, I mean, with me?
It’s evening now
but I’ll see you this morning
on the other side.
Water flowing-
-time passing- planet spinning- and
Light is all around.
Ah,… Humility!!!
Of this thing I know little,
for I am, my God.
Clouds are beautiful
with so many stories to tell
if only we look.
And then suddenly
at the age of thirty six
I have a girlfriend.
Perhaps I am though,
up in this mother-fucker,
just fucking around.
What is the point? A
better question yet is: What’s
the point in asking?
Charley the monkey –
– Justin the man – so little
difference between
Falling in Love with
every woman I meet
is sometimes taxing.
Iquitos, waiting,
wandering through space and time
searching for the thread.
“Stubborn”, and “Skinny”
adjectives applied to “Love”(s)
or was it to me?
The best advice yet
heard - “Don’t sail with finger rings”
I’ll take that to heart.
The girl always laughs
When I say “We’ll see, we’ll see”
But we will, won’t we?
No woman no cry.
Not an original line,
but a damn good one
Woodsmoke nostalgia,
a longing for moments passed,
escaping the now.
Necessity gone
the stillness of existence
sounding like a gong.
Don’t nuthin’ make no
damn sense no how; I reckon
I’ll just have some fun.
Double chai latte
after eight years without one
I make my own now.
Need. Human. Contact.
Beyond the dearth of options,
here on this island.
Today is just that.
A day, like any other.
But why the hell not?
Me dije ella,
“Sos un leon en una
haula. Romperlo.”
A crazed giddiness
has overtaken my mind
but so be it, eh?
Bored off my ass, but,
my fingernails and toenails,
are quite well maintained.
In the end, they say,
I am choosing the sadness.
Could this be the case?
Sadness sets back in
over and over again.
Why am I surprised?
Bored beyond belief.
Rance told me it would be so.
Who was I to doubt?
At the tying bench
waiting for inspiration.
No patterns emerge.
Progress has been made
a simple sideways step
back onto the path
Stumbling in circles
praying that from a distance
these line show progress.
I’m guilty as charged,
hyper-communication
being my worst vice.
Of Flora’s secret,
I must admit, I know nil.
Who cares, anyway?
Decided. Corner
has been turned. It’s up to me
anyway you know.
Surrounded by light
all things dark now turned to Love,
this new space, my path.
I am here right now,
without future, without past,
simply present - me.
Mitote, Maya,
swirling in my head, be gone!
Leave me to my heart.
Tree frog guardians
perched at pole-tent cumbre gaps
keeping squitos out.
To be sure of heart
solidly grounded in self -
wouldn’t that be nice.
Helicopters, planes,
cables, ropes, and water, sharks
and physics – me – go.
Battling Mara -
- frustrations long forgotten,
these being dark days.
You gave me my life.
How could I ever express
gratitude enough?
I shudder to think
where I might be in this world
had you not been here.
Life is beautiful.
You, are beautiful as well.
This I pray you know.
The winds have calmed some,
leaving me not quite spent
but fatigued for sure.
I’m surprised each time
when the violence returns,
dense fool that I am.
The problem at hand:
patience with the present tense -
could be resolved soon?
Cat is never sad.
Playing, or at rest, always.
Living present tense.
The vow of silence.
An attractive idea,
but practicable?
Surprisingly hard
this process of coming off
the Copenhagen.
Every day less words.
As a writer it will be
funny when I’m mute.
Lessons learned like this,
the hard way by all accounts,
are the ones that stick.
Noisy future, past -
silence, in the present tense -
Here is where I Live.
I’m alive. Cutting
oranges, for my breakfast.
Enough? Ha! More than!
She says she is
“Siemplemente siendo”
Hmmm,… I should try that.
The feeling settles
slowly but surely. It is
time to move on now.
People’s nuts man; see,
people’s nuts. And that’s why we
can’t get nothing done.
Sadness in fall light,
a first for me. Assuming
that memory serves.
Getting settled in
may take a while, but we’ll see.
All things in due course.
My fear says retreat
but that ain’t me no more. No.
I will see this through.
Old families with
histories of large scale wealth
and similar paths.
In the Bahamas
with no clue where I’m headed.
Such is life these days.
Packing for fishing
after so much quilumbo
makes me resonate.
Stinger to the brain
and down she goes, just like that.
Works every time.
The sadness will pass.
Just a matter of waiting,
waiting for the light.
Re-calibrating
to make energy and space
complimentary.
Al fin I am thus,
a monogamist seeking
a harem of one.
Todo el mundo
es una gran belleza
para disfrutar.
All those little ones
and zeros, running off the
page - where do they go?
The isotropic
nature of our existence
scares me to no end.
Love, Life, Beauty, Light,
all simply one and the same
infinite spiral.
Let me be as the
Buddha, welcoming Mara
each time he appears.
Remembering that
permanence is illusion.
This, a constant fight.
Asi compraste
salida de mi vida.
Vaya con Dios.
Wind, ripping through walls,
spreading tiny cracks, begging,
screaming, to get in.
Do we create them?
These meanings, in our own heads?
This I’d like to know.
Synchronicity.
Inexplicable, yes, but
also meaningful?
As the list narrows
I stretch it further, seeking
anything but me.
So the moments pass,
without future, present, past -
always only now.
Reaching out past in
over and over again.
But what is in there?
Is it Icaro,
or just Icarus, perhaps,
waiting, wanting out?
It is what it is,
nothing more and nothing less.
There is only now.
Destiny is real
therefore now all that remains
is to let it be.
Being carried through
the tunnel holding my breath
for the other side.
Everything moves and
changes; though these days it’s at
the time-scale of rust.
This time I will call
“the period of waiting”.
One chapter of life.
Is this shit for real,
or am I fooling myself?
And if the last - why?
It’s a wave pattern
with roaring at the crests and
staring at the troughs.
This is a process
which must be gone through having
patience with myself.
This sadness of loss,
heavy as thick winter snow
must at some point melt.
Leaving is one thing;
it’s different when they leave you,
as bad as that sounds.
I am reminded
by flying daggers, that Love
is not possessive.
There’s nowhere to go,
nothing to be done that will
make this easier.
Submitting haiku
to a small literary
journal, online - why?
Here. Now. My space-time.
I recon I’ll stick with that.
Relative or not.
Longing for my Love.
Inescapable sting - the
void of her absence.
Realizing now
that I am God after all.
Slowly, but surely.
Looking out. For what
I’ve really no idea.
But I keep looking.
The truth is that I
have no real clue anymore
what is real or not.
They have been coming
for many years, these bullets.
I know not from where.
Is it a question
only and simply enough
of honoring life?
“It’s a waste of time.”
“Nay, time cannot be wasted,
only poorly spent.”
Gathering apples
from vestigial orchards.
April autumn light.
“Flor de Poronga”
he said he was looking for.
This was quite funny.
Foot-fall. Foot-fall. Foot-
Fall. And on I go running.
Running for my life.
What would it be like,
not to have any secrets?
Can you imagine?
Old spirits crowding
in and around, from all sides.
You will leave me now.
Everything moving,
albeit slowly, in the
direction it should.
The house is alive.
Should this surprise me? Who knew?
No, I’m not surprised.
“Buenos dias che.”
“Buen dia, si, buen dia.
Hay solo uno
pero nunca termina.”
“Si, no? Nunca termina.”
Ensconced in stillness
I now dither back and forth
without direction.
Trying to work with
wood without the tools you need
just plain fucking sucks.
You turn a corner
while the angles re-align.
For this you must move.
Keeping my mouth shut
generally will prevent
what’s happening now.
No better, no worse;
it's all the same in the end.
Hard to accept this.
“Think less and live more”
said some Cuban to my friend.
I could go for that.
Energies, angles
maneuvers, repercussions,
all for what? For what?
I take on too much,
carrying more than my share.
My fault, only mine.
Cyclical judgment
bouncing, back and forth, again
and again I quit.
Alone is one thing.
Together, quite another.
But can they be mixed?
It may never stop.
I must deal with this, or else
accept failure now.
So the day’s begun.
I gotta go to work now.
No fishing today.
“You am not enough”
the voices keep telling me.
Who knows what that means?
Cows out cropping grass
Me in here feeling like shit
No connection at all
Consciousness? Lay bare.
Unspeakable kindnesses...
Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit. Sit.
So these are my tasks:
forgiveness, and compassion.
Reaching out past in.
And who would have thought?
Now karma makes perfect sense!
It all evens out.
I am so happy,
thankful, for the great blessing
you are in my life.
Today I decided
life is inexplicable.
and yet I persist
in trying to explain
and to understand my own.
Blue shirt bad karma.
How can these things be explained?
It’s simple I guess.
Fuck! Fuck! Mother fuck-
ers. Mother-fucking fuckers!
This is fucking FUUUUUUCKED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Awareness or none
of overlapping contexts -
we’re here either way.
The angel of mirth
kills the game warden of Love.
But what’s the punch line?
Pain in the ass one
worse than pain in the ass two,
and so, improvement?
Slightest hint of fall
nothing more than bending light
yet, affecting all.
You will have to learn -
- everything moves and changes.
And it always will.
I have so many
things to say to you that none,
not one, will come forth.
Heart strings pulled taught by
the universal face of
human suffering
One hair per sorry,
it’s the only way to learn.
But you will learn now.
Oh Mongolia!
I know that you await me
and yet, I desist.
Inescapable
it can be no other way
suffering persists.
He said to me then,
“If I,.. is less… than taco”
which didn’t make sense.
Light’s subtle changes -
a gift in autumn’s approach
smiles and tears at once
Can time be wasted?
By what method or testing
could this be defined?
This is so cliché.
Here I sit, mourning the loss
of my youth now gone.
Every time it rains
my arms end up getting tired
from all the pulling.
On starting over
all I can say is, this is
a constant process.
Am I full of shit?
At least half the time I am.
But then, aren’t we all?
Something is wrong here,
a disturbance in the force.
Likely it is me.
Dead cats and sheep’s skulls -
the detritus of life here
in Perito Moreno.
Many years I searched
always seeking Moon, or Sun -
while the Earth waited.
And now a day of
mourning, that I have in fact
ceased to be amazed.
Snow piled high upon
pregnant bellies of winter
await water’s break.
I understand now
it is best to just let go,
entropy defined.
The Meaning of Life.
What a wonderful thought, and
how ridiculous!
It depresses me
that monogamy should be
so damn difficult.
Home is not a place
where your heart resides in Love,
but the Love itself.
This cheese tastes just like
a divorce I once went through.
Funny how that works.
I Promise I will
only touch your kittens where
it hurts to do so.
It’s time for Plan B.
Which is to go back to A,
all the way from Z.
Today was just that,
Today. Nothing more or less.
Like any other.
And you will know now
that I will Love you always
and forevermore.
I can sit with this.
Depression is relative
just like anything.
I always regret
that I have opened my mouth
when I am with you.
Are you tired Granma?
“Always”, she tells me, “Always.
I am always tired.”
Days like seasons pass,
striving at each tiny step
to be like water.
I cannot draw you
so I will try to write you
across a lifetime.
Though I cannot sleep
I will lie here with you now -
your breath, my ocean.
Turbid currents roil
in the river of my soul
dragging me about.
How the winds can change
how they do so often change!
Man, at their mercy.
Making Love to you
reminds me that God exists
when I’ve forgotten.
You don’t deserve me.
Though it’s not for me to say.
You deserve better.
Life, is fucking strange,
there’s no two ways about it,..
God-Damned-Fucking-Strange.
Haiku make you choose
your words very carefully
and as such, are good.
Scent of lavender
like Déjà vu, tugs at tears
then abandons me.
It’s always too late,
but time’s relativity
compensates for this.
In the absence of
words adequate to the task,
sickening silence.
Sleep soundly my Love.
I buried the elephant
with us inside it.
This is how it is;
this is how it always is,
and has always been.
You can never stay
and you can never go back,
but you will go on.
I will wear these burns
all the balance of my days.
I will not ask why.
Taking the long road.
But I will be coming home.
Coming home to you.
Patagonia.
Why am I here, walking North?
Only time will tell.
Missing you today
brings a smile, knowing we will
soon be together.
Only through true Love
this dialogue of music
could be possible.
Radiating light
you look at me and you smile -
always to the light
Strapped inside the tube
banging, clanging, beeping, noise -
I try to stay still
A feeling at dawn,
optimism brought by light,
life will be just fine.
I’m sitting, reading.
Bonnie says “Good night, Justin”
This makes so much sense.
An early rising,
drinking coffee in the dark
my shirt smells of you.
All is forgiven
and I am without regret
in the space of light.
The nearness of you,
past the point of no return,
something’s gotta give.
What is this life for?
We move about, here and there,
trying, but for what?
Water will carry
away all our worldly sins,
when God floods our lives.
May old age grace me
with a fine shotgun, a pipe,
and a woman’s love.
Where I am right now
is not only a surprise,
but a mystery.
It is a failure.
My mythology wins out
in the bitter end.
What does all this mean?
What do I mean, saying mean?
A circle of words.
Women are insane,
hysteria their nature.
By nature’s planning?
All of us receive
this world as a birthday gift
and should be thankful.
Why do I exist?
What am I supposed to do?
Will I never know?
Pine cones, open, dry,
big and pretty - looking nice.
When wet, not so much.
These bites of the past
are easier to swallow
one piece at a time.
What am I doing?
I ask myself as I sit,
blathering, selling.
My hands smell like trout
which they have not, in a while.
This makes me happy.
Tall pines stand above
a fire burning at midnight.
Two old friends, laughing
Women I once knew
gabbling about their problems.
Who are these people?
Thinking about life
is as much a waste of time
as anything is.
A feeling in light
looking at dawn to the east
spring is coming soon.
Tiny green seedling,
seeking, threading, bending through,
must reach light to grow.
The main point, he says,
is make some shot hit the clay,
if you can do that.
Flying discs of clay,
zigging, zagging, up and down,
why can’t I break you?
Released arrow seeks
some straight path through boiler room,
tearing heart and lung.
These seekers swimming
wrong way - confuse direction,
never arriving.
Un-named stars shine above
the clear night and rising tide.
Striped bass will be here.
It took a long time
walking many miles through snow
to flush the ruffed grouse.