Skeleton Key

You know they’ll beat you
And you know they’ll fall
Bluffing and cheating
Their way through it all

A lonely leader

Laughing lost on his way
Drunk and dreaming
Of a victory

Does he know

That he’s beat in the end
And may never get a chance to ever
See it again?

What is shown

Through a chink in the fence?
And if he glimpsed it would it make a
Difference to him?

The feast is eaten

And the bones picked clean
But down down deep we’re all
Hungry indeed

A ghost is creeping

It shivers with need
A devil of a fellow holds a
Skeleton key

And he knows

Just what you want
But when you try to grab it then it’s
Nothing but gone

And you know

That you’re beaten again
Tempted into thinking this was
Different

The wind is blowing

Through a terrible street
You’re standing on a corner
And you’re thin and you’re weak

But something’s glowing

In back of your brain
The flower of a fire is
Unfolding again

And you know

The world is a lie
Invented by some people who don’t
Care if you die

And you know

You’ve got the right
To fight for your life every
Day you’re alive

You’ve got to know…

.

8 Haiku

Sunrise: two ravens
dig through a plastic trash bin—
hard clacking claw steps

White-tiled station walls—

a Mexican musician’s
mournful nasal song

from One Bird One Stone:

Epitaph: Here lies

a dead red robin, waiting
to become a rose

*

Crushed on the sidewalk
and raided by busy ants—
sky-blue robin’s egg

The sputtering start

of a sprinkler at sunrise—
a door opening

On steep sandy slopes

“Subject To Reservation”
lone picnic tables

*

Cutting overgrown
vines of nasturtium I find
an empty bird’s nest

The crouching blackbirds
deathly still on the footpath
explode into flight

.

Always Were

From the start we are taught
That things are falling apart
Always were

Someone fumbled the spark

That’s why we’re lost in the dark
Always were


All the love we forsake
Trumps all the love we can make
Always will

Every moment we curse
Makes our next turn for the worse
Always will


So much sorrow my friend
We either break or we bend
Always do

Yet we get to the end

And then we do it again
Always do



.

Flashes 21

Juicy Juice—
with ten
percent juice!

Reassembling

oneself
in silence

Building energy

for unknown

needs

*

 
Missed train—
that ain’t
my fate

An ambassador

of some
soulfulness

“Good morning,

Mister
Malario!”

*

Dishes

    =
Dharma

Tantalizing

ourselves
with fantasies

Birds

fly
and sing!

*

Souls who chase
that burning
ache

Lots of great things

about this place—
mostly incidental

She looks like

she likes
Las Vegas

*

To want to do

exactly
what you’re doing

He feels the tug

of the Earth
when he sees her

They’re

all
us!



.

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.

.

12 Haiku

Racketing turnstile—
trailed by a cloud of perfume
she chases her train

A wandering blur

of fog snuggles the houses—
walking home at night


Tree like broccoli
calm in the afternoon shade—
breathing in the Spring

*

Winter: just unpacked
my bag at my parents’ house—
palpable silence

Wake to a white world—

as if while I was dreaming
everything changed

Before dawn: blackbird

perched on a sleepy house top—
wavy, watery voice

*

The creaking tree limbs

sound strained in the big winds—
an ocean blowing

One more stop before

I have to get off this bus—
winds bending the trees

Tinkling metal chimes

repeating in the big winds—
heads of swaying trees

*

Spring: heavy breathing
on a bike before sunrise—
symphony of birds

The streets before dawn—

waters under sidewalks slur,
wires buzz above

My early bedtime—

gaping sky fills the window
this late Spring evening



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