Haikus V

The deep wishing well
gaped in front of the small girl
like a pitcher plant.

The tree’s dark shadow
unfurled like a blue blanket
for chipmunk picnics.

Juiced orange, squeezed lime,
pruned plum, and sun-dried raisin;
death by Cholera.

Hay bales roll downhill
like children let loose from school,
unwinding in joy.

The Loch Ness Monster
swims through the minds, and pockets,
of naive tourists.

Striped like a tiger
by tattered and torn tree shade,
he watched the playground.

She sewed with her tongue
as she did with her needles;
oral traditions.

Fluttering wing-song
as hummingbirds flit through air;
pianissimo.

The old farmhouse has
a porch mobbed by bobbing weeds;
panes cobwebbed by ghosts.

Flagellation by
mouse cords and keyboard paddles:
modern day white guilt.

Like a restless boar
the distillery snorts, squeals,
groans with sober dreams.

Fatigue settled in
like fog in a deep valley,
not lifting till noon.

She laid against me
like hot honey in a bowl;
melted, yet held whole.

A raven’s wing splayed
athwart a burning candle;
clouds crossing the sun.

Pockmarked sandstone bluffs
dampened by a veil of rain;
Navajo lament.

Her kiss was a scarlet stamp
that sent him flying away like airmail
addressed “Return To Sender”.

The treefrog flattened
between the hinge of a door;
take care at thresholds.

Like a fire hydrant
struck by a tractor trailer
she gushes drama.

Hushed as a paintbrush
set aside in turpentine,
my muse sang no songs.

Fancies chased themselves
like fox cubs tumbling about
beneath night’s arbors.

A salvo of scorn
from the machine-gunner’s nest
of her jaded heart.

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