There are things I wish I could say where you could hear them but the smile I painted on to the rhythm of the metronome cannot be so easily belied as that Somewhere at night my faith capsized, rammed against a frozen memory floating on the surface And for a moment, I reached out and…
Category: Poetry
January 6
once, when i was glass and the morning sun was still high in the sky i could see the rainbows shimmering through my skin the road was long in front of me but i looked forward to the walk once, when i was steel and the noontime clouds crept and dawdled i could see the…
January 4
There is solace in silence Quiet that seeps in from the shadows Sleek as a cat, padding softly across tiles There is solace in silence Snowflake settling on autumn leaves Swirled by chilling winds There is solace in silence But at the same time, Not — ptkh 010414
the daze of winter
i saw the daze of winter fading from the eyes of the downtrodden as a fire had been kindled afresh in the dying embers of august’s barbecue a bare-footed retinue flexed their toes in the muddy spring stretched their arms yawned out their souls and dug in again backs laden with the vexing hope of…
In the mirror
I saw my face in the mirror, in passing, and it was someone else. I didn’t recognize the eyes, or the hair, or the point of the nose. But that wasn’t it, because I never do. There was something different. A light, a candle flame, that used to flicker. It was gone. I stopped to…
Found Haiku
“It’s dinnertime, so I’m about to eat dinner. Butter is butter!” — jeh, age 3
Haiku
The nights are longer It’s harder to hold the sun Take heart: Two more weeks — ptkh 120912
Haiku
December the ninth. A climate change souvenir: Rain, in Michigan — ptkh 120912
A Sad Pantoum, Mine
There was something about the trees: Their burning leaves, Curling up on the ground In a black-gray fog. Their burning leaves A dark sadness, full of regret In a black-gray fog. Dead fruit rotting on the earth: A dark sadness, full of regret, As our cold tongues inspired to speak like Dead fruit rotting on…
Mulberries
this afternoon, i found a mulberry stain on my orange shirt it looked like a bullet wound, dark purple in a sea of pure, bright color it wasn’t a splatter: that would have looked artistic, or deliberate, or at least reckless this was a single drop an ellipse stained into my chest just above my…