all winter
the cold outside
the robot inside
.
cloud drift —
a robot wonders
where it’s going
.
heat —
an afternoon spent
with robots
all winter
the cold outside
the robot inside
.
cloud drift —
a robot wonders
where it’s going
.
heat —
an afternoon spent
with robots
dirty snow
my neighbor’s
cigarette
smoke
drifting
______________
Two tanka in one week? What is this? Am I losing my knack for brevity?
Actually, as with the last one I wrote, this is plenty brief enough to be a haiku — twelve syllables. It just seems to work better as a five-liner, because of what it says and what it alludes to. I’m actually still not sure what to call things like this, haiku or tanka or gogyoghka or micropoems … but it probably doesn’t matter, except to obsessive-compulsive types like me.
first snow
I finally
track you down
.
first snow
we’re warm
under that blanket
.
first snow
you’re starting
to drift away
________________________
By now here in Wisconsin, our first snow is a long distant memory — I think we’re about on our ninth. But “first snow” sounds, you know, more poetic than “ninth snow.” Although now that I have written this I think I will go off and write some haiku about snows other than first snows, because they deserve a little attention too.
the first frost —
ghosts drift from the boxes
of winter clothes
full moon
once again I forget
to look up
city haze obscures the moon uncertain dogs barking
moon caught in the trees
the neighbors gather
to watch it escape
milk and the moon stirred into our tea
clean plates
the conversation
drifts to the moon
the moon adds layers soon he’ll be convinced I’m right
sleepless night
the sheets as white
as the moon
July’s full moon the fan blows away its heat
full moon
behind me in the mirror
such whiteness
breathing the same wind
as the fireflies
I burst into flames
the year’s hottest day
her dress
is made of bees
balloon’s fire-
roar
singed thoughts
running through the cemetery
pollen drifting
over gravestones