Leafbuds half uncurled,
chilled in the spring air, await
their liberation.
-
Haiku for Sunday afternoon
-
Haiku for Lake Shore Drive
Cars, haughty and rushed,
hiding drivers’ eyes and thoughts
from the pensive sea. -
Tambourines of the gods
The soft ringings
in my ears
call me
towards silence.
I still to listen as
they draw me
inside,
to the eternal,
emptiness,
my heart.
I listen and
dwell there.————————-
The daily poetry practice this month has forced me sometimes to think of poetry as a method of journaling: many of my inspirations have necessarily come from the ordinary day in and day out. And that has been very uncomfortable.In that spirit, this poem came to me at the beginning of yoga class tonight. Not for everyone, I know.
-
Haircut night
The fragments of your hair,
having shifted pigment and mixtures of pigments
to now solid gray,
pile in the kitchen trash can
on top of his
soft, shimmering dark gold chunks —
attesting of their past
and of things to come. -
Thank you for emailing
Thank you for emailing
at nine thirty-four last night
with seven exclamation marks.
And thank you
for not waiting until the morning
or – heaven forfend! – business hours.
It was a pleasure
to tuck myself in last night
to your melodious verse.And, by the way, thank you also
for copying my boss.
I am sure he went to sleep
with a smile on his face
and will want to share
all those good feelings
first thing this morning
over coffee.And I would be remiss not to mention
how uplifting this was for my staff.
You really know how to motivate —
they told me just yesterday —
so I know perfectly well
they will be waiting by my office door
as I walk in
(my absolute favorite way to start a day),
bursting with textual exegesis of your email!Terms like ‘so very concerned’
and ’questionable competence’ —
quoteth you the Immortal Bard?
What a glorious day
you have begun for me!
Thank you — no really —
thank you.——————————–
We all have a thorn in our side at the office, no? What is surprising to me is how I respond when my ’thorn’ calls a five alarm fire. My blood pressure shoots up and I cannot sleep.Alas, not exactly Yeats today. I actually have a rule about not using poetry to deal with this stuff. But I hope the poem is at least a little entertaining. It certainly felt good to get it off my chest!
Poems from in between 