Flight

Down the hall the beast pursues me
A turn and it will be upon me
Closer every frantic step
Looming, almost wrenching
I stop, I turn, I scream

I never feel its teeth rip through me
Or struggle helpless beneath its leathery paws,
Punctured by its claws
I never feel I could escape
Or force its neck beneath my boot
Or look directly at it

Finally Square

Secure in this room all earthy blue and green, a comfort unknown to me for many years

In Plainfield, stairs (if oak or pine, I can't recall), and daddy coming down

Looming even taller than when I grab his hand in both of mine and pull with all my might to no effect

I have waited for him to come  to  me to set me on his lap on the bench that runs along the hall to the kitchen

Though the house must have rollicked with the three of us, it strikes me now as quiet

Afternoon sun cutting through curtain breaks to reveal swirling planes of dust. In my mind it holds still. 

I hide behind the chair which sits before the TV that does not work.
I have a splinter and fear his help.

I tell him Jamey is not lying, but he takes his belt off.

I ask him when we're going to visit mommy. 

I pray like he tells me and wonder why I don't hear an answer.

Morning breaks without bombs

Morning breaks without bombs.
The sun's sharp rays invade this little room,
Where lies our son who will not go to war
Unless he wants to. Who will not starve.

And still we worry -- criticize each other
In perfect safety, relative tranquility
We feel besieged, by sharp words wronged.
We all were bred for battle.

When sleep deprived he whimpers,
My frustration fires. A father
Who's held his son raggedly dying
Can't have a night like  this.

The drunk fool enthuses

Haberdashery,
Absurdly froofy name for hat store
Grandiloquently calling forth pomades and handlebar mustaches,
The drunk fool enthuses, laying into the surf-pounded sand brick after brick of unlikely truth.

The little man who should know less than his father but knows more anticipates failure even as he desperately longs for daddy's scheme to pan out. It never does.  The dust in the pan never even covers their expenses.  It never will, will it?

Epigram

1.
I got an app for my cell
To remind me to be mindful
It chimes me on the stroke of every hour
Tsk. Tut. The censor swats.
Another way I make my phone my master.








2.
New England Patriots football squad
Bearer of scorn and adoration
of intensity unrivaled by zeal for God or country
Champions of America's paragon sport
Damn they're smug.

Bonus

Grave markers are a sort of sculpture.

Totems borne by believers against death.

They speak of the dead but not for them.

Haibun 2

Black Sheen, Olive Green

Black sheen, olive green cicada flaps.

Floodlight flips on. Crickets pulse out, a thousand miniscule glass stoppers spun in bottle necks.

Cicada buzzes. It's twitching on its back, its wings pummeling the composite decking, its pale underbelly defenseless.

Cicada flips right-side up again, its clear wings still furious.

Man grips hard a stick,
Six feet away from wasp nest
clinging to railing