Mushrooms, Splinters, and Thorns

Seaweed

Haiku

a moment before
there could be another life
now your chance is gone


Seaweed

Seaweed on the rock's crust
swishing around
within the upside down reflections
of grey hair
and eyes like olives.
One woman wondering how to
shape-shift into sea-grapes
and reflecting upon herself,
a reflection
all mine.


Buses

I rode the buses once
and watched the traffic outside
stop and start,
from their windows.
When rain conquered the city
and the land swam,
fat black wheels doled out mud
from the puddles
to the pedestrians,
to bestow upon them
the dirt of the streets.
When snows came,
buses slid backwards
and riders twitched
like caged cheetahs;
yet, akin to mystics,
they sat with frozen gazes
until the next stop, and
after they got off,
the fragments of their lives
washed out on me,
glinting like broken glass.
Now, when I visit the city,
the buses pass me by
their headlights like searchlights,
but they do not spot me
on the sidewalk
with mud on my coat.