Haiku 2

charles clegg
Photo by Charles Clegg.

Billboard, visible
an instant between buildings
Was that its whole life?

Two nostrils’ warmth on
two curled fingers, blanket
pulled over my head.

How might this maple,
ready for autumn, reflect
the size of one soul?

Sleek crow, struts over
the cache it’s found in the grass:
a flat cigarette.

Pushing a thick knife
through thick moldy cheese, in part
because I’m stubborn.

To file this under
“you” or “I,” someone must take
the pulse we share

Two hands and her small
makeup mirror; foundation
sponged under glazed bangs

Unburdening, all
to the recorded ghost of
Rahsaan Roland Kirk

One odder pigeon,
feathers milky white, two stripes
of brown at the tail

Does the young lady
wailing woes to her cell phone,
conceive what life holds?

The bus, plunging north,
drags that jet out the window
near to a standstill

Spiderweb, perhaps,
holding orange leaves suspended
at the haunted house

Six-foot-six and deaf,
strapped to a stretcher; downstairs
the ambulance waits.

Do I dare to watch
a dog shit on the street–oh,
only a tinkle.

This, particular
feeling of floating in space,
so new to our earth.

Birds atop a church,
tiny against slanted slate…
will they hear the Word?

Two motorcycles, sharp,
shine, neither black, against
the ritzy steakhouse

The mechanic hugs
his lover, with her bike, mocking
the locked-down grey skies.

Cold, flows through bus window…
I will not risk a beating
to ask for it shut.

At the Western stop,
a man in a hockey mask
but sad, slumped shoulders.

Missed the slow bus;
just in time to catch the youth,
reading ancient wisdom.

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