Apples and honey
rain drops dance, september walks
endings, sorry crosses love
white cloud and still voice
apple-y honey, sweet
are friends who stretch oak-like arms
billow cool warmth, peace
for more Washwords’ (and friends) haikus see Haiku You
So, there was this protest in my fair city this weekend. “Against what? What are they so angry about?” asked a doe-eyed college kid on the metro “Everything,” replied my love. “Ask a different one, get a different answer.” “Oh,” said the student, playing with her “peaceful co-existence” button.
At first I was annoyed – I planned to head to the Martin Luther King library book sale, the nearby arts festival and perhaps the last day of Shakespeare free for all that day. Then I decided… nah, I should go. Besides those locations – books, MLK, arts – probably pretty safe.
The Metro (a partially subsidized by the GOVERNMENT) ride was packed. I counted one person of color on the train, up the stairs at metro center, across the click clack of those familiar octagon tiles. There were flags (Nazi, Confederate, U.S., the colors and meanings layered together.) There were pictures of Obama with Hitler’s moustache, with nooses around his neck. There were mis-spelled and innacurate signs about facism and socialism and big government being handed to children with giggles.
Others saw it too and the reports started flowing in…The Smithsonian (also Read the rest of this entry »
i remember you
and the laughs, learning, stretching
i didn’t count then.
smell of hotel, but
I now lived there, two whole days
I don’t remember
how or why i left… and stayed
gone, away, alone.
I only knew: go.
blue hits brown bark , feet concrete
sorry paled, I know.
thought i broke the world
that day. steel spokes, dusty hearts —
that concrete block of ache.
split we must. perhaps.
weren’t ready or able then.
new loves get those selves.
still… sorry i am
pale though it does, i cling. might
you remember me?
for more Washwords’ (and friends) haikus see Haiku You. Sorry all for the long hiatus… I will try to be back more regularly and more cheerily than these hearbreakingly beautiful September days have me today.