haiku 30 May 2018

Steamy and humid
Heavy storm-clouds up above
A beautiful day

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 28 May 2018

History rewards 
Those who write stories with love 
On many heart-strings 

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 25 May 2018

Cross the road quickly

At the first sign of strangeness
Better safe than sore

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 23 May 2018

Hearing loud footsteps 
Is enough to scare some kids 
I tread lighter, now 

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 21 May 2018

Like grapes on the vine
Plump with juice and clustered close
Does man live life best

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 18 May 2018

One man’s true-born saint
Is to his neighbor merely
A seethin’ heathen

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ] 

haiku 16 May 2018

No religious text
Is more true than its fellows
Read them all - with love

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 14 May 2018

An orangish root
That nourishes flesh and soul
Reach for turmeric

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ] 

dreamstate writing 11 May 2018

During much of this morning’s dream I was worming my way through the hallways and staircases of a vast series of interlocking, cliff-mounted structures. Sometimes I was alone, and sometimes hordes of other people crowded into the structures’ rooms, making it hard for me to move around. I was trying to get from one disc golf tee-box to another, but these were spaced far apart from one another and the layout of the place was confusing, causing me to climb many stairs and squeeze down many tunnels built into and through the homes of the people living there. Each time I threw my discs, they sailed out of view. Although I knew were they had landed, I had a difficult time figuring out how to get there through the maze of interlocking buildings.

At one point, I was standing at the top of a staircase conferring with some of the people judging the event (or who were at least doing something officious). Turning around, I found the stairs behind me so impossibly packed with people that my only recourse for descending to the floor below was to jump out over the side of the railing and hand-carry myself on the outside edges of the individual steps to the floor below. As I reached the bottom my legs brushed against the stockinged feet of a lass resting with two other women on a couch. She immediately stripped her socks off whilst giving me evil looks, to which I responded (as I was walking out a nearby door) by mocking her concern for her striped and colorful socks, saying something like “My legs aren’t that dirty.”

Later in the dream sequences, I was in an alpine city built onto level ground that was covered with a few inches of slushy snow. Despite the presence of frozen precipitation I knew the city was on Bali, the Island of the Gods, somewhere high up the side of one of its towering volcanoes. The city was party ruined, many of its sparsely-placed high-rise buildings damaged or collapsed, but its streets were packed with cars, buses, and people attending to business. Twice whilst in the city I stepped up into a burnt-out single-family home in which stood a representation of my deceased father, an older man with grey hair but strong arms and big hands who embraced me in a great hug and asked why I was groaning in pain and weeping loudly. (After the second time meeting the older man I indeed lay awake in bed crying, hugging myself about the chest, and basking in the memory of those who have died before me.) Falling back asleep, I found myself sitting in the slushy snow talking to a bypassing woman wearing a tan overcoat, who had stopped to admonish me to seek a drier place to sit lest I catch the sniffles.

The thick wool socks I was wearing, though they like the rest of me sat in mounds of cold wet, were nonetheless bone dry, which to my dream-consciousness seemed slightly odd.

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 9 May 2018

That which can’t be had
Those forbidden fruits of life
Aim high or die hard

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 7 May 2018

Now crooked, now straight
Soft ripples caress hard stone
A creek makes music

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]

haiku 2 May 2018

Bathed in morning light
Part horse yet also part fish
A golden wonder

[ americanifesto / 場黑麥 / jpr / urbanartopia / whorphan ]