Flight

Something in the air: 

Yellow leaves turning orange— 

You were never there.

 

 

Vanguard Tuboflo Poets

In short, we go 

With the flow, 

Write only that

 

Which makes sense 

In the present 

Context but always 

Flush with fresh content, 

 

Contented as all 

Get out, you know 

How that goes

 

Down, no?

 

 

Futile Woke Morning

Gray foggy blanket 

Sudden cold front covering 

The homeland, frozen.

John Ciardi's Ways And Means, 1959

His 

How does a poem mean? 

Means asking it, needing 

Answers our ears clearly

Never expected 

To hear, that small bit 

Of time-traveling 

Universal matter making 

Its uncharted way 

Here, now piercing even 

The astounded ears 

Of the die-hard 

Hard-of-hearing.

 

Sleepwalker's Haiku

Full blue moon spilling

Through open window shutters--

You knee-deep in it.