If islands could cross paths in the heat of the doldrums, it would be you and I. Some seismic instigation overcoming emotional inertia, pushing each toward an Equator where we awkwardly touched, Ancient Mariners of the Tradewinds, individual albatrosses in place, brushing one another. It was an awkward kiss, on a downhill glide from one squall on the way to another. The slantless sunbeams, ever in squares of ninety degrees, never foreshadowing these memories logged in a bold black hand, soon enough ripped from the bindings, yet never discarded. We each to our own hemisphere have kept since that fearsome time, when we lowered our colors, but never our guard, without salute, just a passage of singular islands trying to prove John Donne wrong when we were certain those noontime bells tolled for the other thee and not for we.
Summer sun’s heartbeat
its heat echoes off sea and thee
yet coldly we passed
Poem #17 of Poem-A-Day NaPoWriMo. Robert Lee Brewer asked for a haiku today. That’s how I started writing poetry, feeling safer within that 5-7-5 syllabic hug. Here’s my effort, though, as usual going a little too far. It’s a Haibun (俳文 ?, literally, haikai writings), combining prose and haiku. The range of haibun is broad and frequently includes autobiography, diary, essay, prose poem, short story and travel journal. I think I jammed them all in here.