floating and leaving no trace
silence steals
between all our words
–like a sponge
it expands
filling up the space between
what we say and don’t
quieting even
the slow sounds of our breathing
–where to rest our eyes
our lives are made of silence
we don’t look at each other
our hearts drum drum drum
beating beneath the silence
a silent rhythm
—–
(shadorma, tanka, haiku)
bedside, the dog growls
my eyes fly open, ready
–awakened from sleep
we removed our skins
and thought we would see
our true selves
but without our skins
we were invisible to
each other
either what was inside
was too hard too see
or nothing held up our skins
except an effort of will
he had the feet of a snake
and the wings of a hare
like many desert creatures
carried a pack of brambles
on his back to capture
the morning’s moisture
i asked
–old man, why do you toil
setting stone upon stone
every day when the crows
steal them at night
and carry them to the ocean
where they drop them in
sea?
he placed yet another boulder
upon the pile
dust covered his face
his hands were those of a coyote
he laughed
–to bring water to the desert
the sun
was too wet
i wish
we
we did nothing at all
all we could do
we did not like
something
on the mat
tricks
tricks
no mind
fear
—–
I didn’t post the original, but I will tell you that it is from a very popular children’s book, the first line of which is “The sun did not shine.”
coyote pauses
waiting for headlights to pass
–slips into darkness
i am full
i contain multitudes
does it matter if what i say
contradicts
what i said before
i didn’t say that
very well
do i contradict myself
it’s one of the multitudes
at fault
a singular wit
mouthing off
i’m sure
one word out of line
and the train jumps the track
o captain!
these contradictions
are hard to take
harder still
to reconcile
with the crowd in my mouth
and you thought
keeping my wisdom teeth
would put my incisors
out of alignment
what about all those souls
—–
By a weird coincidence, my Zen a Day calendar had this quote by Walt Whitman today, which is what I thought of when I saw Jane’s Challenge:
Do I contradict myself?
Very well then I contradict myself,
(I am large, I contain multitudes.)
–Walt Whitman
Jane Dougherty Writes
Poetry challenge #14: Take a favourite line
i can’t hear the wind
above the sound of your voice
as you speak
the words in my stomach
fight to be free
but inch like slugs
too slowly to make
a difference
too slowly to start
a sentence before
the sound of the wind
engulfs us
uncounted
uncountable wheeling mass
of black birds
so much more
than a murder
more a massacre, really
a huge dark wheel
spinning over the axis
of a bare tree
fortuna, imperatrix mundi
she rises
she falls
her spokes
these black messengers
against a grey sky
the fresh-turned earth smell
rosemary, sun, and water
–a new pot, new style
RonovanWrites Weekly Haiku Poetry Prompt Challenge 80, Style & Fresh
Words and Feathers 