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Friday, September 13, 2013

Last Pilgrims In & Other Micro Poems

 
Detail from the painting by Kenzo Okada





in the seeping dawn
a deer dashes
your split-hair decision

*

for Ken McCullough 

golden afternoon in the park
a baseball pops
—gone!

*
from the wrinkled old hand
a teacup drops — breaks —
tears in the eye

*
Dear John

in the noonday
cicadas trill—
nothing seems real —
nothing to get hung about
*

the walnuts
pelting the roof
of the back porch
the weather turning
 
*

Sitting in Zendo
lonely
like a first snowflake
grazing the air

*
Late September
drifting clouds —
a school bell
evoking Fears

*

Cool water of the big lake
washing away
the traces of our bare feet

*

In a rear view mirror 
the blacktop hazy —
big eyed deer
missed
*

Shadows
of drifting clouds —
over the old Catholic cemetery
*
Crimson sun
flooding
the icy Cordillera 
below
*

Travel  today—
rushing to and fro
without the real purpose. 

*
chestnuts fall
last pilgrims arriving
before the albergue
closes
*
around the haystacks 
children at play  
barefoot fadeout
 *
two ghosts 
on the platform of the Zumarraga station   
addios carino¡ 

*
on top of the famous
Basque fort
a clowder of black cats
hardened pirates

*
A key falls on the tiled patio
how it rings
with its insolent laughter

*
warm breeze lifting
enveloping
the rooftops 
of the inky city 
by the sea

*
The leaves are ablaze
the pigeons coo
the train is about to heave
*
Across the blacktop
three deer: hop — hop —hop!
glad you missed them




Hear No Evil
See No Evil
Write if you must
— but make sure
you've heard it right.


Footloose

When you pack, pack everything you own.
Don’t worry about what you don’t have
in your dear old 
mochilla

 *

No Nothing


No details, no words.  No news.   

All is well.



Nine Seconds

On your marks, ready, steady, go! 
You spring
you bolt
from the starting block 
of later years —
no gravity
no limits
can apply! 

you lucky old dog! 



That Smile Of Yours


How I love the way
he
smiles
that Lucky one
seated in the
mango grove
by the river
where Vasudeva
takes one across





All poems mine,

Boris Gregoric
2013