9 Haiku

Staring unblinking
at spaces between faces—
old man on the bus

A small hatless man

with his hands crammed in his coat
walking in the wind

Faces red as wine

they drink in stiff-collared shirts
in the noisy bar

*

Thousand mirror ball

shines on the wooden floor—
waiting for the dance

Soft dry clonking tones

of some ancient bamboo chimes
dancing in the wind

Two stout little birds

twittering at each other
on a windy wire

*

A lone puff of cloud
changing faces as it roams
an empty Spring sky

The steel rails hissing

after the train rolls away—
I start my walk home

All this artistry

carves beautiful curlicues
in the shifting wind



.

What Happened

I could have been struck by a truck,
or shot by a broke broken man
hungry for more than my money—

the point is I died,

right there on the downtown street
of people passing people.

I wasn’t me.

I became the mind that makes us see.
I was free—

free of that bloody body

sprawled on the sidewalk,
free to float

in and out of minds

of people who were there.
Some fought me.

A woman chanted a prayer

to deliver her from evil.
A man told himself

Be tough! The world’s rough!

Don’t be a sissy!
You gotta do this, man!

Children didn’t notice me.
It’s like I fit right in.
One man grinned

a grateful smile

with glowing eyes like skies—

I’d died.

.