From POETRY DAILY, here's today's poem, which I wish I had written:
Tablet
Up the cutbank of a creek named after stone, striking stone, I came walking, my fingers stained with the pulp of raspberries picked from branches arched over descending snowmelt beneath two clouds and blue sky no one built. Napped between that extravagant quilt and sunwarmed sand until the taut line woke me, tugging in my palm. The trout's eye was a polished nickel poleaxed by a drop of ink, though I am writing this in the brown juice spit from a grasshopper's lips, instinct having made for many a miracle such as this emergent mayfly shaking its wings dry, to whom I whisper—Go light and soft with this pittance, straight to the lord whose commandments are writ in water.
The Fate of Nations
ReplyDeleteA dojo is built,
Like its temple, not to last;
Each leads to the way.
[Disposable Haiku March 16, 2013]
Dr. Mike
From POETRY DAILY, here's today's poem, which I wish I had written:
ReplyDeleteTablet
Up the cutbank of a creek named after stone,
striking stone, I came walking, my fingers
stained with the pulp of raspberries picked
from branches arched over descending snowmelt
beneath two clouds and blue sky no one
built. Napped between that extravagant
quilt and sunwarmed sand until the taut line
woke me, tugging in my palm. The trout's
eye was a polished nickel poleaxed
by a drop of ink, though I am writing this
in the brown juice spit from a grasshopper's lips,
instinct having made for many a miracle
such as this emergent mayfly shaking its wings
dry, to whom I whisper—Go light and soft
with this pittance, straight to the lord
whose commandments are writ in water.
Chris Dombrowski
Earth Again
Wayne State University Press