Honeybees…. zing…zing
Divining pure sustenance
I take it from them!
Author: Leo
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haiku: walking Fuzz
dead leaves rasp the street
smashed turtle at our feet—blood
caution—slow approach
respectful soft sniff
looking up to me—confused?
unable to speak
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Weather
“What is this weather in my soul?
This nameless weather:
Squirrel’s flag-tail pulsating
A silent, nil day.
Exceptional drought……
memory’s ceaseless loop roils;
turkey vultures soar.
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scars
Daylight, unforgiving and true,
caught my hands at ease, flat,
unflatteringly flat, upon my knees.
Loosely applied over blue-veined
rivers and tendon ridges, a pliant
skin reveals a history of scars:
puckered, punctured stars, sliced
crescents, rude tears and gouges
all ungulate in a lighter hue over
blue-veined rivers and tendon ridges.
A skinscape of a crazed topographer;
a delineation of years of labor,
of incidences with sharp edges,
of inabilities, and worst, inattention,
of flailing arms and careless hands;
hands with slender fingers
better spread across opened pages
gently tapping, counting, calling out the joy.
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Calla
Calla lends herself to lyric,
Flowing lines sync; visual rhyme.
You and me, our whining’s, not so much.
She exist in pastel syllables,
Cello bliss, dabs from the sacred palette;
Copyrighted; forbidden to us, by ourselves.
Deprived, we paint only you and me:
Gray lamentations, stark primary tints;
Decrying fate in strident sketches
Of perceived losses and longings.
Satiation, our illusive deity;
Calla, complete, an ignored embrace.
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Heart’s Script
We all bear witness, self-sworn daily,
speaking our lies, shinier than truth;
painting ourselves, molding a visage
of reflections from fouled mirrors.
We profess enlightenment yet cling
to darkness choosing each sin care-
fully writing new, discreet definitions.
What is written will endure; flourish.
Our heart’s script perishes with flesh.
Belated Words 