haiku

scarred deeply with wind
the trees cry hard, silently,
twisting in their tears.

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snowflakes adrift on
the waves of silly laughter
are the most unique.

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songs flutter from hawks
dancing along the halo
of winter's crisp crown.

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biting like barbed wire,
the rain lashed at my naked
flesh with mad laughter.

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hunted by lightning,
clouds rolled quickly across the
horizon toward home.

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i scribble haikus
furiously across my
dying sanity.

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the footprints i leave
will testify to the lack
of my importance

as they wash away
with the wind and with the furf,
torn from memory.

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i yearn to be a
chinese sage, long of beard, lost
in the clouds of one.

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caught in a flurry
of painted leaves, i inhale;
intoxication.

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born into this life,
naked and full of awe, i
pray to leave the same.

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the buddha's be-bop
riffs between shuddering leaves
lazy sunday noon.

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bees are communists
dancing in their honeycombs
happy in their place.

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the evanescence
of bees makes one curious
about consumption.

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tormented by the
sun, shadows retreat into
the arms of the wood.

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ants care more than we
about the receeding pools
blistered by the sun.