3987.
250th Anniversary Fireworks Booming,
American jets screaming by...
Patriotic speeches for tired ears,
Corporate TV selling booze and lies---
I sat under a cloud of disappointment.
3988.
She found her son dead
on the floor beside his bed
with mouth agape and eyes surprised
he a motionless slump of breathless death;
still and cold. A silver crucifix on his neck.
3989.
Time can be squandered, stolen,
wasted, lost.
Time can be invested, used,
divided up, and at a cost.
Time cannot be saved.
3990.
The dull knife of Zen
can't cut, can't slice;
fit for hacking up the weeds
of stifling random thoughts---
understated knots sometime loosening.
3991.
Thigh chest, short breath,
Tired legs, stiff back,
Headache, need rest...
Departing sun, clouds come,
Sitting still --- Hike Done!
3992.
Comets cross clear skies
Fiery streaks flash and fade;
Asteroid showers in the Eastern Night
Remind us of the heavenly strife---
Burning rocks in final flight.
3993.
April comes between March and May,
somewhere in the Spring Season it prayed.
Verbs telling time in a web of words,
e.g., just needed 'ed' for a phoneme, say.
Words love to embrace other words,
sometimes free of any thing anyway.
Nature does not say "April", we do;
Nature shows 'April' in tenuous ways.
To be human is to speak often
of years, seasons,
months, weeks, and days.
3994.
While the El Nino storm so stark and bold
Makes the canvas yurt walls rattle, yet hold;
I wrapped myself in blankets against the cold.
I sipped on coffee, and chewed on cold jerky---
Startled by branches Smacking the roof.
3995.
"And I realize that this
Transcendent architecture
Lost in the forest where no one passes
Is itself the Net of Indra
The compound infinities of infinities,
The Flower Wreath,
Each universe reflecting
Every other, reflecting
Itself from every other
And the moon the single thought
That populates the Void.
The night grows still more still. No
Sound at all, only a flute
Playing soundlessly in the
Circle of dancing Gopis"
- Kenneth Rexroth, On Flower Wreath Hill
Indra's Net
Gopis
3996.
BEWARE: Windy Day
In my backyard
within 70 yards
are swaying slowly...
19 Douglas Firs
100 feet high.
3997.
Time Leaves the Window Behind
Time loosens her sandals in the garden,
she rests among rosemary and rocks.
A breeze turns the pages of the afternoon,
and in each moment the leaves are briefly lifted
before settling back into the long green now.
Time stands on the lawn like statue of steel,
peering through the glass at the lamp’s bright eye.
The rug inside unspools a river of dark thread,
where the chairs are briefly islands in quilts,
and the house is a secret folded into the hours.
3998.
My mouth harp slides on my soft lips.
In breath, out breath, call up a tune:
a sweet, a gentle, a lonesome tune.
My melodies flow, then go,
into the emptiness of pure silence so slow.
3999.
Owl Time
Motionless quiet on a cedar branch.
Severe eyes survey the edges of shadows.
A light fog rolls over the forest floor.
A field mouse scurries by a rotting log---
silent wings slice the bloody night.
4000.
Glued to a cellphone.........
Isolated, alone, eyes on a screen!!
Time lost in a scrolling addiction,
Mesmerized and entrapped---
Curiosity killed Us hypnotized Rats.
Bundled Up:
Quintains, Tankas, Pentastichs, and Onions
Original Quintain Poetry By Mike Garofalo
Bundled Up, Volume 1
Quintain Poems 1 - 1,000
Bundled Up, Volume 2
Quintain Poems 1,000 - 1,500
Bundled Up, Volume 3
Quintain Poems 1,500 - 2,000
Bundled Up, Volume 4
Quintain Poems 2,000 - 2,500
Bundled Up, Volume 5
Quintain Poems 2,500 - 3,000
Bundled Up, Volume 6
Quintain Poems 3,000 - 3,500
Bundled Up, Volume 7
Quintain Poems 3,600 - 4,000
Bundled Up, Volume 8
Quintain Poems 4,000 - 4,500
