Diffident Darshan
forms of conversion
living in the knot garden
an epicenter
rooms filled with wonder
when she spoke and named fire
wooden blocks tumbled
eggs lost in the lake
word wounds and water flowers
another autumn
early breakfast-time
snatches of invisible
poetique critiques
seek a new songbook
arising melodic chords
clef deconstruction
synthetic closeness
open correspondence books
eternal cities
crossing the night marsh
lizard light from middle earth
big turtle blessing
mothers’ reflections
shadow play with night haiku
upstaged reviews
this collective world
last call for deliverance
spending ghost money
in temples and fields
only afterimage as
small May Day mercies
bitter memories
many haunted years later
those classic sonnets
uneaten carrots
temptation feeds us nothing
and water atones
even the red dress
argues against perfection
as she hits her mark
she leaves glory land
and moves into wilderness
with her white candle
panic attacks then
mimics whatever men want
watching the bears dance
mercy justifies —
ripples, saps another life
as death releases
unleashed anger
smashes through doors and windows
takes us all hostage
retrieving the skull
from the forest of wild hands
voices shutter wind
unravel the rope
risk drinking from the old well
just not as deeply
suns set on gunfire
not so much fun as before
thus, inklings of hope
nappy edges seam
broken pieces of the moon
looking for wholeness
only for the eyes
of one long-forgotten friend
polite poetics
her green piano
journeys onto continents
tracking the serpent
both sides of the wall
burn candles in memory
feed dogs in the dark
drunk on a glacier
threading our rusted needles
talking to flies
then the bard owl hoots
above voices underneath
yellow harvest moons
women walk about
emboldened by tambourines
shaking red bracelets
the hermit’s journal
full of visions, tales, love songs
with no boundaries
morning passages
append the earth’s transition
adjust timetables
islands drenched in light
sing mean ol’ badger blues
as we cross the street
yet here at the door
quiet feelings stand alone
while souls are sleeping
out by the longhouse
faces of fear reinvent
wildflower walkers
satori returns
its own song to the rooftops
words vault over walls
. . . . .
poet: susan.powers.bourne
source: women.poets.new.jersey
process: augmented cento haiku