burns suck

a hot pan sears flesh
leaving red marks of passage
southern snow blows in

Benediction

outside my front door

I feel prayers on my face

spirits paint the sky red

Stepping outside my door I see the red light of dusk, behind the houses and around the trees. 

The wind picks up slowly whispering prayers of winter

Tobacco blows from my hands as I say thank you.

Merry day

ice greets the day
clinging to Christmas trees
yesterdays wet snow

puppy prints in snow
wandering the neighborhood

to the physical world
art is a useless endeavor
but to the the soul it is everything

going in the dark

longest night driving
even the wind waits for dawn
rebirth of summer

picture of trees

we wait for spring 
with moss covering the dead
things we see walking

Jets

arriving early
we visit the coffee shop
old women gather

a feast

sun light on feathers
plucking their food from the grass
I scare them to flight

Every day

laboring all day
never seeing any sun
I envy the ant

laborer

surrounded by dust
trading my time for money
hoping for better

freeway

little birds in trees
singing beside the freeway
as they always have

le sigh

need to be doing
I'm quietly panicking
wrestling with doubt

day

standing in the factory
all I see are straight lines
going no where

weds.

a glimpse of blue sky
surrounded by painted steel
sunlight through shadows

waiting

every breath I take
I smell work clinging to me

every day

cars sit idling
parents stare at their smart phones
missing sun and birds

dads porch

talking and rocking
  we watch the cat stalk small birds
flannels and coffee

The Parlor

buzzing of needles
ink and flesh turned into more
Black Phoenix Tattoo

Tanka, almost

rising on St. Croix
streaks of light behind black trees
through grimy windows
snow clinging on to shadow
waiting for winter to come

my back yard

snow dripping I peek
I heard the calling of crows
they say to relax

The next day

waking up at Three
yesterdays shock is still here
my clock keeps moving

Coronation

I was there that day
when Hans and Taion battled
For the golden Claw
on the fields of Border Downs
In the shadows of summer

Tanka baby steps

talking about poems
with my children as we work
they do math I write
sounds of geese echo the train
as fall snow turns to water


I am sure each line is suppose to be contained in itself but. It is a start.

work day

afternoon anger

destroys mornings happiness

why do the clouds come

watching

I feel like I am waiting
for what  I am not sure
different monotony
breaks the day

thoughts

Is a haiku a poem of multiplication?
A collection of sounds that mean more than they appear to?
A cut of words that bleed meaning.

what it isn't

looking for Basho
in the heart of Haiku
I find myself

remembering blaze orange

sunlight on my back
its like heaven in winter
my ears are happy

tuesday commute

be still while moving
snow becomes rain yet remains
red lighs and wet tires

you cannot force a haiku

meditating on Haiku.

words floating in space
my thoughts captured in haiku
waiting to be seen

yule time christmas

pagan holiday
waiting for the suns rebirth
a nativity

on my mind

smelling spring water
trout rising to late winter
fall fly fishing dreams

happy table

turkey with stuffing
family gathered all around
the pies are waiting