“autumn storm”

autumn storm –
a little more garden
slips into sea

Presence 47

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Occasionally I play some of my records.  Like me they are well into middle age.   The Prog Rock sounds are accompanied by the snap, crackle and pop of surface noise.  That tiny diamond wearing, and worn by, thousands of miles of groove.  Somehow, even with all the noise, it still sounds better than the digital perfection of a CD.

                                                 landscape painting
                                                       all the trees
                                             outlined by marker pen

Haibun Today  7,4

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“council meeting”

council meeting
biscuit crumbs on
the deprived area

Prune Juice 11

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cosmetics card her beauty points

Prune Juice 11

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“council estate”

council estate
at the forest’s edge
on street corners
twisted pines

Skylark Tanka Journal 1:2

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Such a medieval word.  Too grand, but then closet smacks too much of secrecy, and the secret is out now.  Which is why there are no longer any robes warded here.  Just an assortment of coathangers, telling their own forensic stories. 

Coathangers of plastic, in a haphazard variety of sizes.  Some with the logos of high street shops.  A couple of diminutive ones for kids’s clothes.  And a few of wood.  Some of these had names on them:  family names and maiden names, names of friends, and the name of a dry cleaning firm, in a Lancashire town he had never even visited.

                                         the jangle of
                                     a wire coathanger

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“snow on the log pile”

snow on the log pile
more wood than
we can burn

Modern Haiku 44.3

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