bashō

late spring—
the memory of machine gun fire
in a starling's song

crushed grass
a lover clung to in vain
through winged dreams
murmurs of discontent
from a distant rumble
dreamers cross the magpie bridge
stars scattered like petals
wind through dry pines,
the terrible flash
of a distant pyrocumulus
in-flowing tide
a fresh breath of life
on the river
a lightning strike bootlegs
its way into history

the purl, the babble, the song,
stitched together as one

rain falls at last
disturbing the long silence
of the mountain stones
a thread pulled
from Eliot's tapestry
defies fate
cascading rivulets
carve out a new covenant
proof that people are crueler
than any lingering season
in the wild irises
stir the ancient enmities
that marble desire
the last post
a lone bugler taps into
a shared sadness
Laocoön and his sons writhe
in relentless agony
the wind's blue note colors
the white cry of the wood duck
in the languid dust
not a trace of Troy
remains to be seen
scudding clouds
enter the vision
and are gone


Clayton Beach
Stephen Bailey