Training a wide mind to notice minutiae.
Spring has come with its hubbub and troubles. The creaking need to get outside and stand in the foolishly alive air is upon us again here in New Jersey. The chemical smokestacks greet the new season with their votive fires. And I, a poet despite myself, am to be found scribbling among the nooks of my office cubicle. Or sitting dazed on the stoop at lunchtime while busy birds thread their nests into being. Take note! I tell myself. And so, here are a few Spring notes I've penned on my palms like a new phone number, each new number over-writing the last until, finally, my hands are a palimpsest, and all the Springs run together in one wash of soapy ink.
There are two versions of the introductory poem (of course!). I can never say either "Hello" or "Goodbye" just once.
Send me one of you haiku! Email gregglory@aol.com.
5/02/2007
Swatting a fly--
rolled paper on the screen door--
What? Haiku!
Swat that fly!
With what? Rolled paper against
the screen... Haiku!
Ratty winter grass
in the cool quadrangle--
Spring dawn
Spring breeze--
All night on the lawn
a paper kite
Spring birds at dusk--
Even the kids next door
settle on the stoop
Spring is here!
No more long nights dreaming
of cherry blossoms!
Carefully
the cat sniffs the windowscreen--
Spring breeze
Spring evening--
The curious moon uncloaks
a last patch of snow
Spring nighttime---
Drunks behind the Irish pub
play on the beach
Breeze by breeze
through the stirring grassblades
Spring arrives
For over an hour
calling the dogs in to eat--
Spring dusk
Spring night--
Everyone leans against the bar
in less clothes
Spring cleaning--
Dirt under my fingernails
from the flowerbox
Autumn already?
But, I'm not yet tired
of wiping sweat
Visiting mom's tomb --this Spring too, dogwood blossoms Spring rain-- under my old ball cap wet hair April rain-- a careful covering keeps trash dry Four empty benches around a flowerpot awaiting rain Spring breeze-- Cyclamen share a flowerbox with cigarettes April rain-- So late in the day sunset At the movies letters for the marquee "deliver us" April rain holds off while my umbrella leans against me April wind-- my umbrella chuckles against a chair April rain-- a fat robin in the runoff grate washes her feet Oh look! New buds on the maple bough beaten by rain Looking up, rain drums on my umbrella, my feet soaked Sun on the bed even before the alarm --Spring breeze Rain clouds hesitate over the parkinglot --puddles are full! April sunrise-- blankets kicked to the floor-- windows open! Dawn songbirds even earlier than yesterday waking up Hurrying in father and son know snow off slowly Today, moody and sad, enjoying spring haiku-- How're you? Open windows-- the commuter train this Spring louder than ever! I am convinced some butterfly will find me-- asleep on the porch April snow blocks the front door unasked for and so fresh! Thunder pounds snowy gutters into full voice --April rain It seems small-- a pissing dog sniffs a mum --Spring blossom Windows open I hear icicles shatter-- Spring A.M. April rain-- windows open, and, yes, a windchime Spring cleaning-- First thing out the window stale air Spring break-- Jesus crucified rests between her breasts Spring night-- I'm not in rebellion against this world Two friends drink coffee at the table-- two candles One by one the windshield fills with pearls --Spring rain The ocean pushes against the continent while we sleep Silent faces lean meekly together over coffee Every Spring the moon gets too high to touch learning nothing The band staggers up to the tipsey stage quietly complete Spring night-- no moon outshines the streetlights Electric eve-- I watch the tree blossom above the traffic Even Asbury waits for summer's sunny rush hugging Spring darkness tall chairs under a twisted tree await asses Dead father float together in the air --Spring night The poets slows, drawls, stops,-- stagestruck in too much light Bakery smells-- long lists of fab foods in chalk Paper lanterns share starshine as poets shoot the president the angry poet rages, rages before decore sunset-toned Coffee stained page-- death poem and birth poem touched by one blot Phone friend too long away in L.A.-- here in my ear Pissed distance, Frank talk arrowing too raw-- target re-drawn Pillows, voices, soft conversation flows to wet dreams Shredder calendar strips each day to trash-- recycle-ready Arms still asleep-- twisted at dawnslight, drooling Falling out of dream, my arms still sleep-- I had been a hawk Inky letters chained to saying something: A, B, C, D, E Office lunch-- finding a vegan salad bar that takes Mastercard