On Poetic Closure

Once a poem hits 

Rock bottom, an anchor is 

Useless.

 

Pieces Of An Imminent Chorus

Most likely the cicadas are here 

To help us remember how 

The wind shapes 

The pines and to hear 

With each approaching 

Seamless segment 

Of twilight, the immanent 

Song of our belonging 

Set to disappear.

 

 

Light, Transmogrified Haiku

Into liquid sun- 

Shine, in deed it drenches us 

Before you, know it.

 

Short-Shrifted By The Muse

Listen up 

And see how 

The words roll 

Off your tongue one 

After the other no 

Longer.

 

 

Running Against The Clock

--to Kristine, for old time’s sake 

Biking by 

The cemetery—no 

Time to stop 

To say “hello” 

To all those 

We knew 

So well so 

Long ago— 

Some other time 

We’ll know better 

To stop 

And say “goodbye” once 

And for all it’s been 

Good to know you.