CHRIS GORDON early haiku 1994-1996
March 27, 2014 § Leave a comment
my cold feet
step on her bra
still warm
fallen elm leaves
the plastic bag
remains
unlocking the door
the key she gave
back to me
I buy
another book about
non-attachment
Modern Haiku 25.2
a beautiful mouth
the postal clerk says
she likes my writing
Modern Haiku 25.3
fast-food containers
the weeds green from
the warm rain
Modern Haiku 26.1
the hot asphalt roof small white petals blow in circles
her hand covers my ear the sound blood makes
Modern Haiku 26.2
tea our silence and the hot still morning garden
light warm rain
mosquitos drift up
through wisteria and dusk
the full moon
coats the dark lake
boarding an empty bus
Frogpond 18.2
the orange glint of rush hour way up there a hawk circling
a train enters the distance empty sheets smooth and cool
imagining her with someone else behind the blinds the moon
weeks later her sweet voice it’s just a machine
the crosswalk whistles skimming the pavement an empty bag
Frogpond 18.3
in the dust splotches of rain half the billboard flaps in the wind
a gliding egret the clouds converge on themselves
Frogpond 19.3
CHRIS GORDON a book of matches
January 29, 2014 § Leave a comment
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snow from Xmas still painted on the porno shop
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thaw before New Year’s silverfish in the bathtub
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three lentils in the beach bathroom drain
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my son says I’m not playing I’m having fun
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at the doctor we divide by two subtract one
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the button I sat on falls to the bus floor
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drawn to the lollipop ants sizzle in the sun
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panties tossed on the melon rinds wet in spots
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over time the little steps take us far away
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my brother I don’t really know it’s his birthday
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hoofprints on the beach seaweed entangled with bones
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morning the bathroom empty except for my razor
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you write a list I let your tea steep too long
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with a book of matches you know how many are left
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lit by the window sawhorses covered with snow
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the corner where the blackbird attacks a rag on fire
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deep in the river a tiny moth leaves my head
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CHRIS GORDON Modern Haiku Vol. 33.2
September 15, 2013 § Leave a comment
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rain drops drip around the fingerprints on the glass rough tear in the seat
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green at the close of winter a broken crate in the empty train car
:
are you asking me because it’s your job or because you want to know?
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twilight those children shout the names of their dogs Freeway and Tequila
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Four seventeen syllable single-line haiku. Chosen by Robert Spiess. Lee Gurga’s first issue as Editor of Modern Haiku. I was invited to contribute the cover art. Freeway and Tequila appeared in Haiku 21 – An anthology of contemporary English-language haiku (Modern Haiku Press 2011). I contributed the cover art to this endeavor as well (Castor & Pollux – Mixed Media 2010).
OCTAVIO PAZ modern haiku 36.1
January 21, 2012 § 2 Comments
A DAY IN THE CITY OF LAKES
:
:
The white palace
white on the black lake
lingam and yoni
:
As the goddess does the god
night has encircled me
:
The cool veranda
You are boundless, boundless
but surveyable
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The stars they’re inhuman
This hour though is ours
:
Falling I rise
Burning I grow wet
Do you have only one body?
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Birds skimming the water
Dawn comes to my eyelids
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Filled with thoughts
immense as death itself
the marble looms over you
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Palaces run aground
their whiteness is adrift
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Women and children
roam through the street
fruit scattered about
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Flashy rags or lightening?
A procession on the plain
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Cold and jingling
on their wrists and ankles
bands of silver
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In a rented suit a guy
goes to his wedding
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Clean and draped to dry
among the stones clothes
you watch in silence
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On the island monkeys
with red asses are screaming
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Sun dim in the heat
Hanging from the wall
a wasp’s nest
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My face is also the sun
of blackened thoughts
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Flies and blood
fill the courtyard of Kali
A young goat flits about
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Eating from the same plate
gods and men and beasts
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Over the pale god
the black goddess
dances headless
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Heat and the hour splits open
These rotting mangoes
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Your face a lake
smooth, without thoughts
Out splashes a trout
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Afternoon’s gone
Lights kindle over the water
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A rippling in
the golden plain and a grotto
Your clothes nearby
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Over your body in the shade
I am like a lamp
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A scale made of
living bodies bound together
over the void
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The water sustains us
The sky overwhelms us
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I open my eyes
How many trees were born
just last night
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What I’ve seen and wanted to say
the white sun blots out
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El Dia en Udaipur translated by Chris Gordon
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