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Ideology of the Cranes

the group's absurd March to understanding
Lee Chang-dong ripe cries April
sensations high fall

June group therapy--slanted, webbed cow, an ex-abbreviation for thou--
lightness silly girls down beating, humming at the elite--
sanctuary denied--all the cow girls cried: exceedingly tanned!

black labs growl gruel on the brink of hammered jazz, why?
Basic German cells slam shut bang--what maneuver do you require?
Wallander Kenneth improvises to the croaking of nails...

Our Twining

I imagine these lampposts
Have roots
Tangled beneath the concrete

These buildings
With foundations
Stories beneath the ground
Like massive glaciers
In and out of water

The country, the garden
Is not the only
Land of substratum metaphor

We walk freely
In forest or burrough
But so much of us
Is sucking nutrients
From the place we are

The familiar news
Of a gang
Related death
The store or shelter
Established
On 22nd Street
For years

WinterSoul

WinterSoul
*
Mornings infused with autumn now,
vestiges of night cling damply
in dawn -light glow...
... birdsong echoes in hollow rings
through thin pale mist
curling down the ever-green hills...
*
Just beyond her kitchen window
a tree fern stands
like a one legged triffid
thick moss adorns his southern side
- still damp with early morning dew...
*
Strange days, she thought
- sweeping rain
heavy showers
scattered sun
gusting winds
- four seasons in one...

A Ghostly Dream

Last night I was visited
by lost boys, I once knew.
Long ago when we were young
their lives were spent too soon.

Taken by a wicked war
the ground soaked with their red
while a government's only interest
was in the counting of the dead.

In my dream their specter
was a ghostly grey and white
all that was left of how
they suffered from the fight.

Then, one boy, I recognized
stepped forward close to me
in vivid living colors
I remembered him instantly.

FINAL TROPHY

The old truck grinds to a slow stop
as the eastern sky's stars start to fade.
An old man exits, no hair on top
a scant hundred yards from a small glade.

Back straightens out with a few groans.
He shoulders his rifle, grasps walking stick
starts down woods road which a friend owns.
slowly, quietly that's the trick.

Before too long he's at the blind
built a mere eight feet off the ground
a few years back when he didn't mind
how climbing made his old heart pound.

Heaven Be

Heaven be...

Cannibals and Succubus
talking a blue streak
Wasps in global air space
Everything Bog Standard
No Asians
or accommodation for nyctophiles
All the booze-fairy theorists
Button-holing you
Worrying who is your "Long Wife"
Noahs Ark with all the slugs and slaters aboard

Like Twitter

Time's Oblivion

Today is someone's
birthday
a gift of a poem
of his today

Glory and Grief
are relatives

Two of my poetry fans
and mentors
passed away in sleep
but I don't weep

Glory and Gory
have short lives only
I too will
a part of history be

Soon
fading
Until such time
Abide with me

Haiku Poetic Selfie (May Contest)

eyes squinting sunlight
kissing diamonds on the sea
gives rippling water

The journey

In the garden of shrubs
where birds and insects gathers
In search of the rose that glitters
when a sun rise
it rises with a sunflower
which dances sheen for the sun
till it sleeps off.

An eagle is sitting with a shiny moon
when the skies plays
and when joy glimmers like a cluster
I will delightful sing a flourish melody
the appeal of my soul.

When foxes are crowded
I sight a blessing
(For who ever found love found life)
And I sigh with a bleeding heart for love.

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