stoplight haiku

so do the times
they talk of, often
absurdly so

his sorrow and joy
tilted like the wind
in a May circus

foundering
like a season,
humble as salt.

new life meeting
old
cold spring rain

always
a beer can beside the road.
always.

a perfect flaw,
as in fabled quilts,
within each thing

lemon water.
after it nearly snowed
last time

cottage on a lake
a boat.
inscriptions.

my filibustering shaman,
drenched in gold,
gary again

many things
would still happen,
but not right then

I acted as though I had.
and had not.
heart full of please

for the snow
ready to be still
as white

white winter sun
of a morning
of a day

the perfect song.
a golden tongue.
heated

can you remember
my building heart
eleven stories tall