Monday, February 29, 2016

On the Slick, Black Rock at Monterey Haibun (May 2002)

In the gray fog of dawn, on the rocks at Monterey, I thought of the woman I left, with all the blood and messy entanglements of heartbreak. I also thought about the woman with whom I’d recently fallen in love.  When this newly-found romance tried to bloom, pangs of guilt kept my joy confined. Lost in this misty, damp morning, the fog enveloped me, forgave me, encouraged me. Then and there, on the slick black rock, I decided to start a new chapter, the best chapter, of my life.

The view through the bars
might appear discouraging;
it was never locked.

Saturday, February 13, 2016

The Hypochondriac Speaks

How I hate to visit
Urgent Care,
as unseen germs float
in virulent air,
and nothing I can do
will quell my despair,
just find a safe spot
and try not to stare.

I know you can't control it,
but try covering your sneeze.
By the look of your symptoms,
no one wants your disease.
On my left, he's burning up
On my right, she's in the freeze.
Hurry, doctor, hurry,
I'm feeling weaker by degrees.

My chest is feeling tighter,
Please make this wait more fast.
Finally, they called my name,
Thank God, some care, at last!
Check my vitals, ask a few things,
It's worse than thought, alas!
What I thought was a myocardial infarction,
turned out to be only gas.

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

Polished Dancing Shoes

Still yourself
until you feel
the vibration.

Sharpen your senses
until you can hear
the thrumming,
pulsing life
in every living
being.

Listen to the world
turning on
its weary, aged axis
and attune your breathing
appropriately.

It may feel like
a night lasting a year,
but it is only
darkness,

and just when
you’ve adjusted
to it,
a flash will blind you
for a moment,

and out of the glare
a meadow will bloom,
the ocean will sing,
and your heart will know
the music
of the spheres,

this planet
whirling in
its blue-black space,
within a larger galaxy,
twirling within
this infinite cosmos,

and when that happens
you’ll be ready
to put those
polished dancing shoes
to good use.

[Inspired by Belinda's post at http://busymindthinking.com .]

Monday, February 08, 2016

Finding 1974

Climbing
over the mountain
of memories,
it looks more like
the city dump,
everything tossed
about,
no rhyme,
no reason,
no hope
of ever
finding 1974
and the
innocent skin,
the naive eyes
I once possessed
before the erections,
insecurities,
and self-abnegation
took me hostage
for the next
few decades
and refused
to let go.

Wednesday, February 03, 2016

One Week Shy of 26 Years

I am the sexy line of
Long Island Ice Teas
and the salacious,
intoxicated solicitations
that never happened.

I am the morning
Bloody Mary
with raw egg and Tabasco
as a cure for the hangover
that never came.

I am the frosty can of
ice cold beer
waiting in the 90 degree
afternoon heat
that I never opened.

I am the nondescript
bargain whiskey
on self-pitying lonely
and moonless nights
that never left the bottle.

I am
one week shy of
26 years of sobriety,
but on days
like today,
I want her so badly
that I can only
define who I am
but what
I don’t drink.

Monday, February 01, 2016

Raincloud Haibun

She tried to process what he'd just said, but all she kept thinking was "it's not good having a 4 o'clock meeting on a Friday afternoon with your boss."  Breaking her reverie, she looked up and heard him say "I have to flatten the organizational tree in higher administration." What the hell does that mean?He proudly championed his commitment to diversity, but here he was telling here that in the upcoming reorg, there was no room for a woman of color who has been with the organization 28 years.  He spoke some more, but her shock left her temporarily numb and mentally elsewhere. Gathering her thoughts and her dignity, she waited for a break in his monologue, and said "I think we're done here," and walked back to her office.

Rain can fall or storm,
ultimately, it brings growth;
the clouds never stay.





[First #haibun attempt, photo by BusyMindThinking (many thanks as it inspired this writing).

Nightmare (Twelve Problems)

I awaken
in darkness
alone in my bed
(problem #1),
and I hear someone,
something,
slamming against
the front door
(problem #2).

The alarm wails
(problem #3)
and before
I can panic,
the familiar
beep-beep-beep-beep
of the code
is entered
which quells
the alarm
(problem #4).

I call out
"who is it?"
and there is
no response
(problem #5)
save for the sound
of breathing
and the opening
and closing
of kitchen drawers
(problem #6).

I attempt
"Who's there?"
but my voice
suddenly strained,
is whisper quiet,
(problem #7),
and I hear
the familiar squeak
of the knife drawer
(problem #8).

I try to kick off
the blankets,
but I'm inexplicably,
inextricably,
tucked in
(problem #9),
as heavy footsteps
plod up the stairs
to my room
(problem #10).

In the moonlight
I see the glint
of the blade
in the hand
of the approaching intruder
(problem #11),
as my body,
frozen in fear,
eyes closed hard,
awaits the plunge
(problem #12).