Snapshot 05 May 02004

Dim, humid day. Ominous.
      The sweet autumn clematis
           did not survive winter.

Bruising photographs, naked
      prisoners hooded and taunted
           by pretty young soldiers.

Full moon over Mount Sentinel;
      the garden rich with scent,
           palpable, tangible.

Two sparrows dance for each other
      on the wood fence, bobbing over
           and under

the greening vines, cheeping and tail-
      fanning. A friend tells me we are all
           sadists, all carnivores.

Bears are coming back down.
      The bleeding heart goes on
           blooming in the shade.

I post this with some reluctance; but I promised myself that I would write a "snapshot" every Wednesday, and post it. This is not a poem yet, and I know it. It needs to make some leap that I am, at the moment, unable to accomplish.

Comments

[Patia]

Yeah .... Wasn't that moon amazing? I was awake at 5:30 this morning with it in the western sky. It came through the blinds so brightly I had to go check to make sure it was just the moon!

[Erin]

So good to see you doing new work, though. I hope this project continues to help you ... I can imagine it having a cumulative power.

I have this urge to push you towards Asian forms ... tanka or haiku. But I'm not sure why.

this is not a real sanshot.it should have 7,5,7 respictively in three lines