This Becomes Musing

Bordeaux, After The War

The sorrow of the taming of myself,
sorrow of the naming on the frontier
where I was just an unsettled drifter,
a pioneer with but shreds of purpose

something like dawn and something like twilight,
many diabolically tender
shades of light swelling and relinquishing
me beyond the bold gold stare of the sun

limit comes, my feet drag, I am a weight
that drags me down into the sea of dreams
where I swim in school of fish of fancy,
then wake again to my own drying scales

this becomes music, this becomes musing
how I put words to depart remembered



I have extra copies of my elegantly designed
and bound haiku book, Spring Fed Pond, from 
20 years ago.  If you would like a free copy, please 
send me your physical address. I will send you one.  
Design by Gerry Greaney is its own graphic tour de force.  
Some good haiku.