Posts

haiku

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poplars mark my pathway gathering bones

Venus haiga

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haiga street art / haiku by Sergio Ortiz

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haiku

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Venus with an afro pick letting go of trends

haiku

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faster than an afterthought staggering butterfly

haiku

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cornered  by the clouds full moon

Haiku

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what kind of fool lets you go without a fight— sea-dust coats my skin

jealous tanka

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jealous of the way you’re happy without me… anthills collapse in the rain, six degrees of separation 

nothing to be afraid of tanka

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nothing to be afraid of even when the night changes— broken coming and going, I climb the ruins of my life

clouds move tanka

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clouds move in a space beyond grief or understanding... memory, my scandelous mirror alwasy telling a lie

tumbling through winter tanka

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tumbling  through winter she knew she didn't fit... a doll's life trapped in a young man's body

I won't lose you Somonka

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I won't lose you I will follow your body as far as the street where best regards forms a corner with the breeze I will follow your body up to where our two bodies fight to enter your dark tunnel... the deluge of your cloisters

filled with longing tanka

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filled with longing I came looking  for ghosts and found  whispers— divergent

strange creatures tanka

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strange creatures on moonlit nights ugly sloth faces when I'm alone

Haiku monostitch

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you bend like a secret about to be revealed erotic logo

Voto for my logo

Voto for my logo: Undertow Tanka Review

We met as soul mates on Parris Island Somonka

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We met as soul mates on Parris Island there were holes in the Persian rug we sat on that Christmas I could smell the fear and uncertainty of happiness no war crimes would ever be punished our shadows, a candle burning at both ends, kept singing  Goodnight Saigon 

this cold night tanka

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this cold night a silver birch reaches for the sky the life I shared with him ...a scent of lilacs

cold night tanka

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cold night, a silver birch reaches for the sky— life dissolves into circles when visualizing loss

tiene sangre en las manos

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tiene sangre en las manos y vidrio soplado en los pulmones el corredor del narcotráfico donde mi isla muere tiene sangre en la cara y vidrio molido en sus fosas nasales el corredor de la justicia donde mi isla muere tiene sangre en su pene y vidrio cortado en su colon el corredor de partidos políticos corruptos donde mi isla muere y sangra, sangra, sangra por la cabeza sangra por los pezones sangra por los pies y es capaz de salir absuelto