haiku with a view

World view marred by homeless truth:
Close your eyes and lie.

Statistic snakes back.
Don’t poverty bite the brakes
And puncture the bags?

To John Donne

This razor that you use each day
Carries both of our DNA.
You would love me even more
When with blunted edge you gently score
The flesh, to know, therein the blood that’s drawn,
Our ecstatic molecules sweetly mourn.
You’ll never guess, I pray,
This razor that we use each day
Carries both of our DNA.

In the room

Once when I was caught
Between life and death
I lied and said
I’m destined to haunt you.

The truth was I was
Too comfortable
The coffee smelled good
And the clouds were high.

Being with you
Was nice and I
Didn’t have a clue
What was on the other side.

So even though
We couldn’t press too hard
I still had my senses
And felt somewhat alive. 

But the lie
Was a constant presence
Why would you want
To send me into the unknown?


skipping and scanning
the hydrographics
scroll the sky
a watery text
curses the familiar outlines
of Van Gogh, Turner, or Monet

Chinese whispers and inklings
vast waterlilies
jet stream like fountain pen
notes and quotes scrawl the pond
righting wrongs, scoring through
the luggage, the passports, the money

still scanning
electromagnetic semantics
overwriting vast fields of blue
correcting grammar
punctuating earth with shade and hue