A Lousy Mirror, Issue #4

A Lousy Mirror

A Depository for the poetry, art,

haiga, haibun, and photography

by

robert d. wilson

ocean bound . . . 

the river chanting

bubbles

you're

accepted here, hated

there, a

whisper leaning

against lampposts

not the wetness

i wanted this evening . . . 

typhoon!

you feel

darkness when light

wanes, and stars

dance in circles

around the moon 

thunder and 

lightening, the war i 

try to forget

stuffed

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

look,

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 . . . 

dreams?

they only

seem fragile, the

tiny

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

children 

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

vendors

       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

windows

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

justify

the placement of clouds

in an empty man's field?

sundown . . . 

an inebriated

melon

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