Haiku steps from a walk in my winter
My feet travel five, seven, five.
My hands hold a book, an iPod, cold blood, and keys.
My heart is so very far away.
may be necessary but is not always beautiful.
Sometimes all one has is understanding what is.
My hands hold a book, an iPod, cold blood, and keys.
My heart is so very far away.
- Earlier heard birds.
Now, sere silence of dead grass
Scratched by vehicles.
Bobcats squat in mud,
Yellow screaming against brown,
Clawed wheels churned deep.
The sober of cold
Stays outside blue neon bars
Not drinking it in.
Shelves filled with shiny
things I do not want to buy;
I do turn around, and leave.
You level and build
Metal trees and plastic wood
Over life's underground.
You sweep your streets free
of the broken and feral --
no place for me, here.
Beware the beast, then,
Prowling civilization
With no affection.
Later, sun through glass
redeems one moment -- but a
window remains closed.
may be necessary but is not always beautiful.
Sometimes all one has is understanding what is.