the body exhumed,
his foot bones clacking inside
polyester socks
the body exhumed,
his foot bones clacking inside
polyester socks
the ground will tremble,
you will glimpse at true freedom
when the mustangs run
Illustration – Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=1425126
I’m buried alive,
drowning in this cold darkness –
hear my coffin bell
heavy doors slam shut
the decades evaporate
the steel bars do not
currents of whiskey
stir up maudlin sediment –
a barfly sobbing
Today’s haiku was inspired by a memory I have of playing in a baseball tournament down in Cincinnati, Ohio. I was seventeen – a pretty good shortstop, but certainly not a Major League prospect. There were several guys on other teams who had attracted scouts from Division I colleges, and there was a pitcher who had caught the attention of a few professional organizations – I think the Royals and the Reds.
They came equipped with radar guns, and they pointed them at the pitcher as he was warming up in the bullpen. Someone’s dad peeked over the shoulder of a scout and said the gun registered at 91 mph. I didn’t believe it until I stepped up to the plate and saw his fastball firsthand.
the pitcher winds up,
he’s a titan in pinstripes –
a blur sizzles by
a southerly breeze
singing through the willow tree
as summer drifts by
the first thunderclaps,
like cannons in the distance –
we brace for the storm
bellows stoke the forge,
hammer and anvil begin
to shape glowing steel
*Photo by Bureau of Land Management California – Public Domain, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=57804653
the Mojave dreams
of desert lilies blooming
beneath pastel skies