Haiku

Haiku

Waning afternoon.
See it hiding in the clouds?
Wispy gibbous moon. - Jeff Barnes

The Fire Opal Sky

Hands like trees grow from the ground.
Fingertips reach for the sparkling heart of the sky.
The stars have vanished from the night,
each one replaced with a perpetually winking eye.

The mouth of the cave has bright red lips
that part to reveal yellow pointed teeth.
Its raspy whisper invites you inside
to explore the obsidian world beneath.

A flight of ruby plumed birds
and crystal-winged butterflies
ride a gale of light purple wind
and swirl into the green-speckled sky.

The sun has disappeared forever.
There is no morning or afternoon,
nothing but the glimmering eyes in the fire opal sky
and the glow of the Buddha-faced moon. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

Unhappy choir --
cats on their way to the vet
yowl in harmony. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

His face looks as if
it is swallowing itself.
Sergey Kislyak. - Jeff Barnes

Haiku

Bleak January --
sky hasn't been blue all day.
Crow on a bare branch. - Jeff Barnes

Mona in the City (collage and rubber stamps)

The Cruelest Month

January is the cruelest month.
Fuck what T.S. Eliot said.
He was a phony Brit wannabe
with a bowler on his head.

Don't whine to me, Eliot
about your memory and desire,
as you sit there snug and warm
writing by your cozy fire.

Did you ever have to have your car
towed out of a snowy ditch?
If not then don't cry to me
you sniveling little bitch.

Have you ever walked in a blizzard
until you felt your eyeballs freeze,
or slipped on an icy sidewalk and
come down hard on your knees?

Don't moan to me about April
if you haven't shoveled your drive
after three feet of snow has fallen,
or maybe even four or five.

If you prefer the winter months
with forgetful snow covering the ground,
then pack your bags and move to Lapland
and take your buddy Ezra Pound. -- Jeff Barnes