Haiku "Patio"

 PATIO

dots dimpled water
skated by dragonfly toes
dining in winter

popping corn buttered
a December golden night
the fire makes music

season's open boil
the glow, the coals so gentle
no crackle, no flame quiet

A. MENDOZA, 2016

Haiku "Patio"

 PATIO

dots dimpled water
skated by dragonfly toes
dining in winter

popping corn buttered
a December golden night
the fire makes music

season's open boil
the glow, the coals so gentle
no crackle, no flame quiet

A. MENDOZA, 2016

A TRAIN TO LOS LANCASTER

 TRAIN TO LOS LANCASTER

a minstrel mockingbird's
voice is false

poetic parrots
imagine not a stanza

spinning spiders can walk in straight lines
suspending acrobatic

drowning fish will not come up for air
never needing to be saved

working unnaturally makes cooking
a twist of good meals

often planned
trips are trained
a train is planned
set in steel

chosen path
steel rail nailed
on a wood cross

eternal never tiring wheel
the steel tire
in their best attire
new or used

moving shadows
rolling pictures
patient in curve
patient in movement

depending on new or used tires
circles eternal
direction to next direct moment
steel new or used

preordained paths for each rail
sometimes new sometimes used
iron rails on the cross of wood
nails, spikes mark the path

some times harder to follow a road
when it's easier to walk a path
hunched over in bad sleep
with floppy crushed lungs

eyes down and intense
suffocating in the mist of all that free air
like dying of thirst on the sea

to choke in the thing that is the most free
a pointless enslavement of self
for nothing
what irony

just to wind up with nothing
never knowing why
on iron nails on wood cross
an unplanned trip that's trained

what irony
to find guide posts
when many a paths' roads
are a surprise

A. MENDOZA, 2016

BETWEEN AUTUMN AND WINTER

BETWEEN AUTUMN AND WINTER

many words for single thoughts
too many thoughts for single words
not enough for silent moments

soon December falls
like snow gentle and autumn like
as soft as the breeze whispers

a single moment
a single word for too many thoughts
not enough single moments

a winter moment
fills itself like a snow gentle
the breeze whispers

life like are the whispers
words that you've always wanted to hear
that you've always wanted to touch

never enough words
never enough thoughts
never enough silent Autumn

enough silence
to speak words
whispering snow now speaks

autumn like winter
falls in a gentle night
like a silence snow speaks

too many words
for a single thought
a breeze whispers
moments

A. MENDOZA, 2016

BETWEEN AUTUMN AND WINTER

BETWEEN AUTUMN AND WINTER

many words for single thoughts
too many thoughts for single words
not enough for silent moments

soon December falls
like snow gentle and autumn like
as soft as the breeze whispers

a single moment
a single word for too many thoughts
not enough single moments

a winter moment
fills itself like a snow gentle
the breeze whispers

life like are the whispers
words that you've always wanted to hear
that you've always wanted to touch

never enough words
never enough thoughts
never enough silent Autumn

enough silence
to speak words
whispering snow now speaks

autumn like winter
falls in a gentle night
like a silence snow speaks

too many words
for a single thought
a breeze whispers
moments

A. MENDOZA, 2016

A TRAIN TO LOS LANCASTER

 TRAIN TO LOS LANCASTER

a minstrel mockingbird's
voice is false

poetic parrots
imagine not a stanza

spinning spiders can walk in straight lines
suspending acrobatic

drowning fish will not come up for air
never needing to be saved

working unnaturally makes cooking
a twist of good meals

often planned
trips are trained
a train is planned
set in steel

chosen path
steel rail nailed
on a wood cross

eternal never tiring wheel
the steel tire
in their best attire
new or used

moving shadows
rolling pictures
patient in curve
patient in movement

depending on new or used tires
circles eternal
direction to next direct moment
steel new or used

preordained paths for each rail
sometimes new sometimes used
iron rails on the cross of wood
nails, spikes mark the path

some times harder to follow a road
when it's easier to walk a path
hunched over in bad sleep
with floppy crushed lungs

eyes down and intense
suffocating in the mist of all that free air
like dying of thirst on the sea

to choke in the thing that is the most free
a pointless enslavement of self
for nothing
what irony

just to wind up with nothing
never knowing why
on iron nails on wood cross
an unplanned trip that's trained

what irony
to find guide posts
when many a paths' roads
are a surprise

A. MENDOZA, 2016

A PLACE CALLED WATER

 A PLACE CALLED WATER

water’s ocean from below

pounding surf

sea spray carried by wind

turning sand and sun

in sweeping waves of punishment on body

taking in the last of fall

before the sheets of summer

before the final end of warmth

time of brisk sea and air

hot tea evenings

flowing together

to the never ending clock of tides

time to move on again

along the black ribbon

along the 9k rim at 130 kilometers

far north in the dome of a clear sky

in the twilight curtain before moonlight

there is the lightning

rhythm flashing reflections

glows of the echoes in a sky high canyon wall

lightning silently re-imagines my fleeting shadow

there is no north in view

now even the night hides

then an odd coincidence

the contrived measures of time

become binary

1010- on off, on, off

are subject to the flashing lightning

suddenly moving at 130 kilometers at 9k

stillness

for a blink

the strobe of insight

at 130 kpm, at 9k

nothing

total darkness

to total light

and they were the same

then there was a sudden dissatisfaction

as each instance open and closed

nothing seemed to have importance

total sight was total darkness

and the reality was in between

where is the sky?

The moon is nowhere to be seen

everything completely dominated by cloud cover

suddenly the ribbon becomes a slide

as the glimpses

left and right reveal the rising escarpment

of both sides

as the tunnel plunges downward

suddenly the walls drop away

the lighting’s ever widening view

becomes chaotic

and then there was the vast plain

spread open to the moon

an innocent beauty untouchable

finally, it rains

this is not water like the sea

no spray like foams carried on a breeze

not a water swelling from below

surf pounding the willing body

a water of sand, sea and surf

a water of a lighter texture

a whole different taste

driven by wind in a cold mountain night

standing in the frigid air becoming covered from above

swept by water onto face and limbs

water without the rhythm of the sea

a different type of relentlessness

bathing in magnificent thunder

coated by lightning

ice cold rain

water very unlike yesterdays rising waves

pulled by gravity and cast by wind

this water falls and is driven by storm

then it is time to move on again

not all who wander are lost

A.MENDOZA, 2016

A PLACE CALLED WATER

 A PLACE CALLED WATER

water’s ocean from below

pounding surf

sea spray carried by wind

turning sand and sun

in sweeping waves of punishment on body

taking in the last of fall

before the sheets of summer

before the final end of warmth

time of brisk sea and air

hot tea evenings

flowing together

to the never ending clock of tides

time to move on again

along the black ribbon

along the 9k rim at 130 kilometers

far north in the dome of a clear sky

in the twilight curtain before moonlight

there is the lightning

rhythm flashing reflections

glows of the echoes in a sky high canyon wall

lightning silently re-imagines my fleeting shadow

there is no north in view

now even the night hides

then an odd coincidence

the contrived measures of time

become binary

1010- on off, on, off

are subject to the flashing lightning

suddenly moving at 130 kilometers at 9k

stillness

for a blink

the strobe of insight

at 130 kpm, at 9k

nothing

total darkness

to total light

and they were the same

then there was a sudden dissatisfaction

as each instance open and closed

nothing seemed to have importance

total sight was total darkness

and the reality was in between

where is the sky?

The moon is nowhere to be seen

everything completely dominated by cloud cover

suddenly the ribbon becomes a slide

as the glimpses

left and right reveal the rising escarpment

of both sides

as the tunnel plunges downward

suddenly the walls drop away

the lighting’s ever widening view

becomes chaotic

and then there was the vast plain

spread open to the moon

an innocent beauty untouchable

finally, it rains

this is not water like the sea

no spray like foams carried on a breeze

not a water swelling from below

surf pounding the willing body

a water of sand, sea and surf

a water of a lighter texture

a whole different taste

driven by wind in a cold mountain night

standing in the frigid air becoming covered from above

swept by water onto face and limbs

water without the rhythm of the sea

a different type of relentlessness

bathing in magnificent thunder

coated by lightning

ice cold rain

water very unlike yesterdays rising waves

pulled by gravity and cast by wind

this water falls and is driven by storm

then it is time to move on again

not all who wander are lost

A.MENDOZA, 2016

SOMETHING

SOMETHING

often what is learned

comes from what is unknown

a non-learned

not knowing

blissful ignorance

what a walk

to step out of reality

to an unheard music

cannot dance

trapped and frozen

without direction

to no rhythm

no steps to take for steps to make

a paralyzed body

barely breathing

learning to dance is difficult

when you cannot walk

is it deafness

is it ignorance

when you cannot hear rhythm

such is the unreality

of direction

no steps to take 

no steps to make

a paralyzed body

barely breathing

can the unlearned

become the unknown

is the not knowing

a blissful ignorance

outside of reality

heard music

traps rhythm

even a paralyzed body

will breath

to its own beat

the death of ignorance

becomes the death of deafness

you cannot trap and freeze

heard music

somethings outside of reality

somethings blissful ignorance

somethings trapped

somethings frozen

somethings not learned

somethings barely breathing

somethings without music

somethings that are us

will dance

A. MENDOZA, 2016

SOMETHING

SOMETHING

often what is learned

comes from what is unknown

a non-learned

not knowing

blissful ignorance

what a walk

to step out of reality

to an unheard music

cannot dance

trapped and frozen

without direction

to no rhythm

no steps to take for steps to make

a paralyzed body

barely breathing

learning to dance is difficult

when you cannot walk

is it deafness

is it ignorance

when you cannot hear rhythm

such is the unreality

of direction

no steps to take 

no steps to make

a paralyzed body

barely breathing

can the unlearned

become the unknown

is the not knowing

a blissful ignorance

outside of reality

heard music

traps rhythm

even a paralyzed body

will breath

to its own beat

the death of ignorance

becomes the death of deafness

you cannot trap and freeze

heard music

somethings outside of reality

somethings blissful ignorance

somethings trapped

somethings frozen

somethings not learned

somethings barely breathing

somethings without music

somethings that are us

will dance

A. MENDOZA, 2016