These birds, and their unaccustomed silence,
peering with their inscrutable eyes, and our
thoughts of science class and nictitating
membranes, and we become concerned with
things we’ve done in the past, as it seems
clear that these birds know each tender and
shameful secret of ours, drawing their
beaks across the aged surface of the split
rail fence as butchers draw their cleavers
across the whetstone, ruffling feathers
and sharing their disdain for us as the
sun falls closer to the horizon and the
sigh of the wind dies out, laying down
the dust, to rest for a moment as we
turn, turn back, and finally draw our
uneasy eyes from the avian jury, walking
to the corner and turning like men with
guns trained on them, knowing that
this walk ends in deeper shadows, and
another night spent alone in the hot
darkness, within easy reach of the
claw and tooth of our well documented
A Haibun The sound of the hawk’s talons as they click against the cement floor is sharp and crisp. The raptor moves carefully, head duc...
We have been dreaming in unison but those dreams have fallen into disrepair, eaten away by the persistent rust of the many days here...
This ringing silence this house, once filled a place of voices now gone silent, a place that once echoed with the laughter of the...
Note: I taught a poetry class at Fyrecon this afternoon, and we did a few challenge poems during the participation segment of the class. Th...