Thursday, May 20, 2010


I became less than a stranger,
easily left behind,
an impetus
for your departure,
a muse who inspired
your plans
of solitary devising,
carefully polished in your mind,
savored by a heart
that no longer knew me.

As I shuffle through
the scraps
of what you left me,
I think I see
you watching,
and then the image
the way a light bulb does
as it ends its earthly life,
a burst of brightness,
leaving me startled,
that I’m alive.

Vulture Haiku

I've recently fallen in love
with haiku. So elegant,
such an economy of words,
so Zen!

I love it so much, in fact,
that I've compiled five of
them here together to be read
either as free-standing haiku, or
as a five-verse poem.

What better subject than
the much-maligned vulture
for my haiku-ish debut?

* * * * *

The despised vulture
soars high like the noble hawk,
dines on his leavings.

Hawk likes his dinner
to be fighting for its life,
scared and protesting.

Death is delicious.
Tasty decomposition,
the vulture's delight.

They were made without
feathers on their bony necks--
their eating messy.

They rip and wallow,
rotting flesh so delightful
to hungry vultures.

Bon apetit!

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