Deposit # 28

The poetry you see here reflects
over three decades of work. I have
changed over the years as you have.
If you want to see what I write
currently, visit:

I love and appreciate you all.

Robert D. Wilson

Saturday, December 25, 2010

A Lousy Mirror, Issue #4

A Lousy Mirror
A Depository for the poetry, art,
haiga, haibun, and photography
robert d. wilson

ocean bound . . . 
the river chanting

accepted here, hated
there, a
whisper leaning
against lampposts

not the wetness
i wanted this evening . . . 

you feel
darkness when light
wanes, and stars
dance in circles
around the moon 

thunder and 
lightening, the war i 
try to forget

animals watch my 
back like 
navy seals
breathing quiet

morning prayer . . . 
black robed beetles
strafing darkness

........... for Jinky ...........

even when
dreams fail me
and stars drop 
from the sky like locusts
you're there for me

after a long 
draught, the spring
between moons

months pass
and still no light
to stay the
song from its roost
above my bedpost

autumn noon . . . 
an old man watches
trees bow

monks bow to the 
wind in
a tree-line hemmed 
in with thistles!

      i sip coffee . . . 
pondering now in a
rain-swept then

this light  
and the darkness
threading it . . . 
lola knew too well
our weaknesses

the dandelion
fluff i blew away . . . 

they only
seem fragile, the
insects in our 
world juggling time

eating the 
same dinner nightly,
squash vendors 

waiting for
someone to attach
strings to their
limbs, shantytown 
children caked in mud

like an oven,
the shanties . . . 
high noon

between my
legs a full moon
saved for a
morning like this
when dawn quivers

      twilight dusk . . . 
a changing of
the guard

      twilight dusk . . . 
halo halo
toying with another's 
shadow between takes

        two bells . . . 
the dead are laid
to rest

  tiny eyes
stagger down the
street at night
like dancers in
a vacant ballroom

      our home . . . 
greeted at the door
by a mouse

have i run
full circle, dwelling
once more
in a crawl space
made of scales?

       moonless night . . . 
watching a shadow
pass through

i place
memories on
your finger
hoping they won't
part with the mist

in my chest
a moth lusting
for the moon

you haven't
changed; beneath
the soil
a stained glass prayer
breathing Jesus

       come and go . . . 
melding night

the fossil
vertebrae of
boxed dreams
in a white box
no one opens

what's will
to a now wrapped
in tea leaves?

the egg i
ate this morning,
danced in
an old movie
with fred astaire

a spurned,
lover; sleep painting

your legs
walk in and out
of clouds
i painted on pillow cases
without numbers

i caught
a rainbow, before dawn
woke my father

when leaves are
swallowed and frost becomes
your cloak, 
i'll sand the legs
of paper tables

your limbs . . . 
wrapped around a
hungry moon

undressed, and
still the teeth of
a dragon
hungering for
a soldier's breath

not the snow . . . 
just you, sweating words
we'll eat later

to sit
       at basho's feet . . . 
and dine on
words scattered by 
acattle egret's wings

the flute song
of an egret's wings . . .
singing water

is the sun
called the moon to
the placement of clouds
in an empty man's field?

sundown . . . 
an inebriated

i feel down
again today, after
taking meds . . . 
the tree line lower
than yesterday

twilight dawn . . . 
the scent of rice
and smog

I can't 
romance her like i
did the
night passing cars
danced with rabbits

      monsoon rain . . . 
the dance of a
thousand feet

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