Bought the Farm

As if it would be the death of me

and I cared little

about solving some riddle or 

making some rhyme 

like Old MacDonald

whose repetition

entertains only the

two little pigs

That sat in their sty 

never wondering why-

the noise.

Getting high on their fermented

gluttonous filth made by 

consummation and what has

been long ago 

consumed. 

Entombed as all of us were

by fences, gates, latitudes and gravity,

pathways are constantly Being made 

into muddy ruts.

Here I was 

set free to roam further than any oink

carries

on, unleashed

with a song 

until death do us part where the grass

is deeper green, the air is sharply clean and there are no

twisted or barbed wires to snare and scare

yet one must tire of standing in muck

wet between the cloven hooves.

No less, it was my dumb luck 

to have and to hold

no harm, no farm, no title 

no hand.

No bacon was ever made

from pet pigs pacing their pen in purgatory. 

Artwork by L. Prang & Co., copyright claimant, Domestic Pig' c. 1874 Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Three Haiku between Us

Between Us-Nothing

but Space and Time, grow and shrink

reaching the same light

Now, it is too late

to take it back or let go

so completely gone

Two souls are mated

Being seeks itself alone

there was always More.

Painting by Martin Johnson Heade (1819-1904), 'Flowers of Hope' in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Another Autumn Awaits

 

Falling comes naturally

as common as fear 

another body

knocked down-

Learning how to climb

up to the canopy 

out of the arbor awnings

each branch a rung

bell 

a ladder 

has no top

The horizon awaits this distant gaze

further than 

a crow flies 

an escape 

too far to grasp, too afraid to take

it all in

to begin again

asking...

What is more

No-

body needs to learn

anything except 

landing 

softly

before rising again

with an icy wind

at knifepoint

only to return 

home, rootbound

thirsting 

for more.

Artwork by Ellen Thayer Fisher, 'Fall leaves and Acrons' c. 1885 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Rubber band(ages)

Tensing, pulling, readiness, and resistance

as much as we can 

gather

before     -SNAP-

to hold a purpose 

no more 

holding together

Just

when life recoils, takes cover

inside

and becomes slack

limp before

taut

all comes back 

to holding on-

to Nothing

tight.

Photo credit by Oroo, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Cave man

 

I stepped up to the mouth

of the dark hole,

a flicker catching my curious

necessity for heat 

as in a fondness for friction

something strong stirs

in this cave

I come to find

as my eyes adjust

not some majestic dragon

as projected upon the moist stone wall

but a shriveled and scarred ogre

unseen to himself and flesh burnt

by the venomous flames uncoiling

from his own sharp tongue

lashing.

The smoke and singe surround every crevice

a decrepid and deathly stench 

steams from his chest where 

his heart rotted in the darkness

called some body and vacant vessel

vulnerable and afraid 

of all the elements

that make 

a man. 

Photography: Albert Grünwedel (July 31, 1856 – October 28, 1935), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

dis-content

a moment dis-missed

then and then again

trees fell like bodies

this time dis-appears

as if ours to waste.

Artwork by José Nin y Tudó (1840-1908), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.

Plenty full

Dry dirt cratering

a doe glides across the yard

eats the fallen fruit.

Artwork by Franz Marc (1880-1916), titled 'Deer at Dusk' dated 1909 in Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.