Here are the month’s haiku as lines. Perhaps some of these will appear in future poems.
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Branches dance, shake in the wind—everything breaks.
How high and how wide must we all grow to bear fruit or provide shelter?
What do you see? “The people look like trees.” Let us try again.
The pressure inside pushes against the edges. We keep waiting.
We were once so full. Night after night, so many words. We were once so full.
Let us walk together as we compare all our stories, talking quietly.
I thought I was alone. In silence I reached for words, gathered them to me.
We takes our chances every time we speak; planting seeds.
Here we are waiting: one decision leads to another. We choose or choices are made.
The ground shifts. In the midst of everything, where is the anchor?
Everywhere the whispers tickle their way into us, our itching ears.
You always forget—there is so much more to do. Straighten your spine.
After the bones snapped, we discovered anew our strength; forged new connections.
How long has it been? Draw me nearer to thee. Let me look at your face.
We keep walking. The sun sets on empty streets. We hold our breath.
The difference between then and now is a broken promise. We trace the edges.
After all this waiting, we prepare for our unveiling. We work patiently.
We ready ourselves for the heavy lifting; looking for home.
Your hands are full. All this empty grasping under open skies.
The edges of vision: secrets and accusations. Damage already done.
Here is a window: the flickering screen. Another fever dream.
Find the target: determine how much pain to bear: make a decision.
Keep walking forward. I was told all things come to an end; my feet heavy.
There is still time: keep asking the questions. We can only hope.
We wear all the faces. We remember everything and forget ourselves.
Minutes at a time we mine our distractions; digging into the past.
It’s a metaphor: the weight we carry within us. How much longer?
We keep fighting it. Like the earth’s gravitational pull, we just keep spinning.
Skin against skin and again skin against skin and skin against and again.
Somewhere beyond words/ we lose ourselves in the promise/ we lose ourselves.
To what purpose? “Tiger tiger burning bright.” We look in the shadows.
Every day passing leaves some evidence. You remain hidden.
We brace ourselves, facing into the wind—the skin exposed.
Let me hold you close. Let me hold you close and still. Let me hold you still.
I’m constantly full; now I’m soft in the middle and always so tired.
We apply pressure: there’s always something between us squeezing out/ the edges.
The memories fade/ I wish I could remember/ the images fade.
It’s a good thing: no digital cameras; no Polaroids.
In the evening silence holds us together/ alone in our thoughts.
That moment now captured—I wish you hadn’t been there (for numerous reasons).
Under the bridges they coo and flutter and strut, erupt into flight.
From the heavens: Water, or fire, or a dove. Did you hear something?
History never sleeps—it keeps changing its clothes, hides in the creases.
Everything aches now: knees, ankles, fingers, hands. My eyesight worsens. I move ever more slowly. I begin to miss my youth.
All that music played late at night in secret; hidden in my heart.
Keep the records dusted, organized however you wish; the needles sharp. Replay all your favourites. Sing as loud as you can.
We weave in and out of each other’s lives too quickly; the shuttle wears down.
Thickly lined walls hold more than weather at bay, covered with stories. Muffling our voices in daytime, silencing our cries in the night.
I sit in the center—only breathing. I sit in the center.
The room is empty now; everything is quieter. How quickly things change. I miss your heavy footsteps; I miss your rituals.
The line is magic, scratches the world into existence (momentarily).
I knew you would come/ If I waited long enough/ I knew you would stay/ If I remained patient/ if you knew you were safe.
We packed everything; planned for any kind of weather. We never left our bed.
I had to let you go. I collected all your letters—there were so many. I Considered burning them. It took longer than expected.
I couldn’t admit it. You were so full of questions; hungry for truth.
It’s a long journey, finding your way forward, measuring your steps—not knowing which way to turn, not knowing how you lost your way.
You gave me a new name. Distracted, I’ve forgotten it. What’s my new name?
It was just a moment: I believed my own stories. I threw down my crown. There was nothing else to do; it was the only thing to do.
