three night haikuthe wind and the nightconfusion under your breathanger in your tonepleading from withinthe wind, like exhalationcalls for her releaseahh, but the moon shineno longer hidden by cloudgraces my writing
working poemheavy rainsfelt like a touchno mistake in her eye~easy after noonher uniform unbridledsmoke in each exhale~sipping coffee togetherwhile infinite spacekeeps me from her~a break in the stormhe sits,shorts downto write poetry~alive and dancingthe small city treedrunk off rain~police siren soundsan animal callthe thunder cannot tame________________________ 07/09/08leaves falling in Juneher eyes like broken seasonsbetter to forget
the after downThe After DownA summer breeze has swept the streets In upbeat funk and rhythm,And shade cascades on storm cloud lace And brown-brick faced urban children.Streetcar rattle taps out coded memories:Shampooed hair on unmade beds Unknown pillows in shadowy, bright nights,Exhaust that lingers in wakes of carsStopped for the empty changing of lights,A memory of you waiting Passing through.Do you remember me like I do? The me that wasnt true? The empty heat that blew through you, leaving? The storm I awoke to in the calm, sleepless morning? The rain that almost fell?
Old JimBeneath a plaid shirtAnd above a John Deer--below is the grassAnd he's cutting it clearThe summer's returnedAnd with it Old JimTo blow down the grassesAnd bend them to himHe's lowered the mowerAnd set it in gearBefore him, the new growth'sA tremble in fear"There's walkers need knowingWhere each foot should go,"He calls to the young grass,As if it should knowAnd while they awaitThe sharp blade turning round,They dream of a landWith an untrodden groundWith no cows to munch,And no clippers to trim,And no riding mowerSat on by Old JimBut Jimmy, he seesWith a twinkle in eyeThat each leaf lives onand never should dieAs sure as the winterThaws out to the muck,The grass will grow green--and perhaps with some luckOld Jimmy will comeOn his mower again,and beat back the weedsmuch to their own chagrinHe'll be up on his seatWith his blade spinning trueCalling, "Look out down the way,I'm a heading right for ya!"
The RoomThe RoomINT. THE ROOM - MORNINGCamera sits above the floor at ceiling level and pivots over to show a young man, MICHAEL (24), lying on the ground with a blanket over his body. He stirs. The walls of the room match the floor in a drab grey, and the light source is amorphous and indirect, so that a window is not apparent, nor an overhead light. A door is located on the wall furthest from Michael, from which a bright light seeps in from the space around it in the frame. A faint stain is present on the wall between the two corners the camera pivots between. A PHONE RINGS from underneath the blanket. A small blue light flashes on and off from underneath the blanket, and there's a beat before Michael rolls over and pulls the cell phone out to his ear.MICHAELHello?A woman's voice responds, muted as through a phone.WOMAN'S VOICEHi. My name's LauraLaura Jains. I spoke to you about the r