Drive, a haiku sonnet





There is a robin 
singing in a tree somewhere,
telling the world he

is looking for a 
mate. A robin sings in a 
tree somewhere, telling 

the world he has found 
a mate. The tree somewhere is 
a tulip in the 

neighbor's front yard. Spring 
has come. We drive by the same 
people, sleeping in

bags on the sidewalk, waiting 
for the world to warm.










(Been a little minute since I wrote one of these...)

NaPoWriMo, 2016, Day 5–soft violence



soft violence

the soft violence of the sword
that severs flesh from flesh

that steals stone from soil
or holes in awnings from

falling bullets, silent as they
settle to earth, as they come

to rest through this, the soft 
skull of the city in the dark