Fields Of Life
Poem Through fields of Life, I’m running like mustang, wading in clouds, I fly! Helplessly unstoppable impulse, desires, blink, smileс, kiss, and haze of summer bliss. What hearts of men need? If it is...
Tagged: summer
Adult Recess
Haibun I watch gray cumulus gather. Listen to cicadas, the workers laboring on my neighbor’s house — their chainsaws buzzing, cutting. And the ever-present drone of perpetual traffic on the New York State Thruway....
A Visit to Nyack, June 30, 2013
Haibun Black icing. That dark chocolate mousse cake catches a ripple of light. The first bite — an explosion of orgasmic sweetness in my mouth. escaping rain Didier and Dumas’ French pastries We see...
Sing Your Chant
Poem The day is the yellow of a sun. And the sky is smiling back through lands and grass as green as thousands emeralds and the beach is kissed by waves as blue as...
Those Nights
Poem I love dancing with the trees, their touch is gentle, light, I love singing with the wind, its touch reminds of the past, of summers long gone and lost, of nights full of...
Song of Winter
Poem The crispy yellow leaves blow over the stones Like the last fragments of summer, Whispering of all the golden memories they saw. Everyone walks a little bit faster. A bitterness is in...
Last Pieces of Summer
Short Poem What are you doing!? Stop using your broom To brush the crunch away from my morning walk, To wipe away that crispy carpet. Don’t sweep up the last yellow pieces of...
Pre-Smuggs Insomnia
Haibun Poetry It’s a quarter to one in the morning. Cricket songs, and the ever-present drone of Thruway traffic, pass through our open bedroom windows. We’ll be on our way to Smuggler’s Notch...
Dirty Photos
Poem The night is hot and long summer! Talks and smokes, drinks to keep us cold all day long Smiles and laughter but my blood is blue What is life if not a...
Seventh Annual Fun Run
Haibun Poem Parents in T-shirts and shorts herd their hyperactive children to the starting line. We ignore the green-shirted volunteer speaking through a bullhorn. Other volunteers attempt to corral us to one-half of...
A Deprivation
Haibun Poem The sound of Screeching steel alongside our house. A hot July 3rd; we look up from our empty dinner plates on the deck table. The ventilation fan of our central air...
You Were Born Of… – Part Two
Narrative Fiction Well, by the end of the next year, all that Robert Burns, my boyfriend, my rebel stuff had ended. It had all backfired on me. But I’ll get to that later. It...
