Thursday, September 10, 2020

A Pair of Evening Haikus

The two red foxes
Moonlit ache of woodland paws Shadows on concrete The owls know your name As a feather from a wing Far is good morning

Thursday, August 6, 2020

Dear Extroverts

Dear Extroverts,

I am the introvert
. . . possibly "your" introvert

The one on the side
at the meeting table,
talked over,
talked at,
talked about
for not talking enough.

Framed in the back gallery as
soft spoken 
even suspicious

And now, a magnanimous plot twist,
encouraged to participate more
speak up
really, come to the table
because your thoughts are valuable 
(thanks, I agree)
You'll grow out of it. . . the quiet.

I have thought about it
I often think about it
from behind my shades
and headphones
a reflection of someplace quiet. . .

The noise is in my head, 
not outside.
There is noise from your mouth
was that from your head?

I happen to like how I am
Perhaps even be proud
though you might have trouble telling,
as there are no closed captions
I am not "as seen on TV

I am introvert.
Hear me assert myself,
at a reasonable speaking volume.

Thursday, June 4, 2020

Breaking Out

Breaking Out
aka my god it's full of sars

A glance out the port
The dusty glass, a cat's blue eye

Begin the ritual of protection
End the void within my gloves one finger at a time
Thinking on the moment space makes a man, a boy
tumbled in waves of cold elation

A step out.
How gently the absorbing darkness
Puts all the zero in my bones

followed by more
To close the inconsolable distances
In what we lose

Thursday, April 23, 2020

To Persistent Demands

"Touch me. I like it when I can feel something", she said.
"Let's make noise.
Let us be more than what we hear."

I reached for her with my rough hands
Gentle words, kind deeds,
Served sumptuous meals
For her fluttering eyes,
her clandestine heart
I helped part her masked lips
In search of the brilliant blade of her smile

She made masks of houndstooth
For her friends, neighbors, heroes
She offered me a mask, but I demured

Did I ever actually touch her?
Was I only ever touching myself?

I wield words, my winsome weapon
With panache, humor, disdain
 Silently swooshing solitary shapes 

Her weft was in the making,
Weaving sparse words
Into enigmas, and victory

"I am semi-hard hearted
withholding, and not talkative"
She warned in a lilting speech,
A small red bird, taking off,
Like a witticism unleashed
In a room full of recyclable punsters

In my cell, a many-minded body,
Breath propelled, floating through rooms
Bodies, profaned in the stewing plague
Just the idea of bodies. . . touching
A nervous social poison
etches itself on every furrowed brow

Every thumb, an alphabet smashing savant
Stunned, and stunted, we grew apart
Branches, wireframed by circumstance
Twisting in the stubborn wind our soft  spots
by the light of rectangular blue suns

I smash myself a quick note:
Yes self, we did touch her;
If only for one, bitter-sweet moment.

Sunday, October 20, 2019

Losing you in 14 lines

You were dancing and dodging, my eyes, that were watching
A small hand in my hand, through crowds had I led you

A wine bar, a dance hall, your front seat, and our aching
I played hooky for your sweet hand, in a small park by the duck pond
Escape rooms, and space tombs, and together we saved the day and a queen
A marvel of sponge cake, immortal ballon - you carried these presents from so far away
To the haunting of old rooms, a night club, and Liam

I pulled you and you followed. Coming ever closer, to my heart, my light, my air
My city, my friendships, my secrets, and a share of all my hardship
But your days were where you struggled, like your hair upon the pillow
Softly aimless, sweet the tangle, as one was drowned into the other
And here were we, lost, in spirals, to each other.. closer, but lower, ever lower

In the end was there trembling... ugly, my mouth, and beautiful your eyes
So your hand, I let go, in the autumn of good byes.

Sunday, September 3, 2017

The Round Sweetness of Pine

I want to breathe you, the sweet air of mornings here,
A light cashmere mist, heavy with first light
and the round sweetness of pine
braided ribbons of torn green grass

How was your dream, my sleepy love? 
Was your heart, dancing near mine?
Did our fingers find their way, together to bind
through night, through distance, and time?

I miss your arms, as surely as you miss mine
The way morning brings sleepy kisses divine
Before all the world spins underfoot
Though we stumble,
                 we right
with one another.

And go we sweetly, on through the day. . .
                                                                       on through the day . 

Tuesday, August 8, 2017


My eyes know you,
like the curl of a country road
lined with trees and blushed in leaves
to be taken by my wheels. . .
the gravity of thrills devouring my will
as I trace your dangerous curves.

My body knows you,
the rhythm intensifies my heartbeat
Sweat, beads as little tents in the desert
as I forget myself . . .
you are the moonlight on my skin, how you burn
as I ruthlessly throb and grind, probing for moisture.

My senses know you,
the scent of cookies, fresh and sweet
the joy of ginger biting my lips, my tongue
as I take another nibble. . .
the delight of cotton candy on a ferris wheel
our turn, spreads all the world before us.

My soul draws nearer to yours,
like a firefly in the summer night
landing on your outstretched finger tip
glowing my little butt off. . .
you are the summer to my life's story.

A reverent finger helping me turn the pages
with same care, as I would do for you.
All works Copyright 2013 Shou Yu Qun!