Hawsapple

A first, full length collection of my poetry is now available through Tattered Cover Press. 

Go to   http://www.tatteredcover.com/tcpress/hawsapple to order a copy!

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Why the Haibun?

Rooted in the concrete, the observable, the observed.

Paying attention so as to arrest one’s attention.

The immediate transposed into the lasting.

Transportable. Moveable. Economical. Engaged.

Transformational–at root and as goal.

Informational, yes, but beyond, under, in between the headlines.

A pocket poem. 

Poem for the pocket.

Pocket it. 

Pockets.

A hole in a pocket

and the moment of discovering such.

Walt Whitman cocks

his head–what stories he has

in that beard!

 

In Such Country

The test may be how good you are
in wind when wind blows through you—

saying I do to I do the white-crowned
sparrow saws the last stand of light

as animal paths on the opposite mountain
ghost into generational tracings.

Out of the breeze’s sway a fly knocks
against a screen in its own summation

of attempt.

Carnage

Can one touch it?
It is too big for touch.
In its opening, it closes.

A construct anchored
in fracture, one that
can be entered—

one that activates space
and saddles the observer
with names made nameless.

There is no getting
away from this—
limb by limb

it mutilates all
we do. Saying “I do”
to “I do”

begins the work of
understanding, but with hands
extended, where to take

hold, where to let go?