Home, going back home. ToWhere my parents live, stillLive, on the other side of my oldRoom. It’s filled with treasuresOf forgotten days, theTreasures now forgotten themselves,Sunk to the murky floor of my life’s oceanAlong with pencil-hearted notesAnd the odd extra-base hit I managed.I go home, look around. I alwaysExpect to find something.A twenty stashed away … Continue reading Maybe I’ll Find Something I Can Use
Author: johnbrandall
John Randall is a writer living in Missouri. His interests include camping, running, walking, cutting and burning wood, messing around with magnets, foraging, and listening to podcasts, many of them about baseball.
Baseball Haiku 11-15
16
Stars make faces
When they tread the spaces
Between themselves and Earth
17
Full summer-moon
And arch of garden hose—
You too can make a moonbow
18
Mississippi
And Ohio confluence—
Almost an ocean
19
Spending a summer’s night reading—
June bug fights the window screen
20
Can I love everyone at once?
Moon shrouded
By only a bit of haze
Landscape: Connecticut 2/07
along the long, tidal river an indian word meaning college towns a good use of land evergreens pine and droopy fir pinecones growing thick this time of year hike anywhere hike in your backyard up one of those hills see a warehouse from there a pond industry then forest forest then industry subdivisions before subdivisions advent and yellow buses bright as the low-hanging moon trucking its way through winter-white & brown/green undisturbed trees are islands in … Continue reading Landscape: Connecticut 2/07
Misc. Haiku 16-20
16
Stars make faces
When they tread the spaces
Between themselves and Earth
17
Full summer-moon
And arch of garden hose—
You too can make a moonbow
18
Mississippi
And Ohio confluence—
Almost an ocean
19
Spending a summer’s night reading—
June bug fights the window screen
20
Can I love everyone at once?
Moon shrouded
By only a bit of haze
Yanzhou!
Coal porter can’t sing but he brings us barges of energy from the dermis of Earth & that sounds good to me.
At Least, One Zenith
Southeastern summer
Star chart took us miles away.
Unlit road brought us back
To sleep the sleep of myths.
In our dreams we spoke
to the after-image.
O, brightest star,
O, distant bug of lightning,
You’re a dying pinprick,
Poised to explode
First Then
And then Now.
You were in all of our dreams
That night.
You swallowed us
Like a drop of fuel
On your colorless voyage
To nowhere.
You became your own constellation.
The end of the light,
The beginning.
Baseball Haiku 6-10
6
I’d take out a loan
to get at those nachos—
yes to jalapeños
7
Out-of-town scoreboard
illuminates the moon—
pennant race deepens
8
Only one of these teams
will see October—
nighthawks catch flies under lights
9
Oh, why couldn’t we
have scored some runs earlier—
closer warming
10
Father and son speechless
at a game in June.
Pitcher comes up lame again.
Misc. Haiku 6-10
6
Pure black
laced with violets—
nothingness.
7
Stop
forest fires, fight
lightning—
8
My robes torn,
slowly I descend
the mountain.
9
Even God laughed
when the preacher
told us jokes.
10
No-one can resist
gossip in your cafés—
oh, Paris.
I Am Backyard
A fish jumped and
I remembered
what it was like
jumping off
the low-dive and
landing on my belly.
Over yonder a tree
on its side
that the beaver hauled down.
A bird.
Until it drops,
until it alights silently
in the extended arms
of the willow.
A thousand lightning bugs
once invisible sting the
twilight like branding irons.
Soon it will be dark,
though the moon
(I’m sure)
grows brighter.
Misc. Haiku 1-5
1
The distant percussion
of a woodpecker—
Let’s make ice cream!
2
Asleep on the edge
of the bed,
marriage is not for cynics
3
Sitting here waiting
for the coming disease,
smoking my cigarette
4
Moon bright enough
to read your poems by,
the yard aglow with dew
5
Sunflowers
break the cloudbank,
feeding eagles
JBR.com 