Invisible thorn-bird

Are they even real?
some say yes,
some remain hush in fear;
or, say,
they are beach-collectors;
steal
gem stones from the waves.

Bull snake

Love
fear
intelligent
mouse catcher;
hide in the gutter when hot and sings.

©Byung A. Fallgren

Poets in their bassinet
Lucille Clifton

Poets in their bassinets 
dream a splendid woman holding over their eyes
a globe, shining with
possibility. Someone,
she smiles, has to see this
and report it, and they 
in their innocence 
believing that all will be 
as beautiful as she is,
whimper use me, use me
and oh how terrifying 
that she does. 

Lucill Clifton was a poet and the author of numerous collections,
she won the National Book Award, chancellor of the Academy
of American Poets. She died on February 13, 2010.    

My four poems are published in this issue. 
Thank you, editors, for taking the pieces. --Byung A. 

On the Gray Morning 

doves recite dirge 
sparrows chatter in anger
pigeons banter
old man grumbles in the kitchen;
poet rummages in the sky for a pen;

they all wait for the sun sing. 

©Byung A. Fallgren

Suddenly he was there

Limper, I used to call him,
for his limping leg, after the day's
walk with his mom, when he was 
very young, turned into a disaster:
when a hungry coyote chased on him;
he ran so fast that he broke his leg.
since then, his mom was beside him;
even when he was excluded by the group;
she was with him wherever he went.

When his little fuzzy antlers turned to 
strong and grand, he began to be alone;
nightly visit to the back yard, also alone;
he'd eat the fallen apples alone;
he'd forage the grass all alone.
Summer slipped into the autumn and winter.

Then one summer night, he was there on the 
street, walking, limping, with his five does
behind; his great antlers pointing
at the moon.  
Marching in such a solemn silence,
would glance only once at the eyes 
behind the dark window.

He doesn't seem to remember the lady and the dog;
the dog who chased away the coyote from him ;
but the lady is all tears of joy of seeing him all grown;
with five does of his family!

©Byung A. Fallgren


 

My poem The Invisible Cloud is published in this week's journal. 

Thank you, editors, for taking the piece again for The Earth Day. 

--Byung

When the night thoughts flee

Too quick to take a note, but
one thing, a fine line on the word
rolling in the misty field;
what is it?
would I allow the bullying?
or, is it the insinuating heat wave
of the rock behind the boulder?
Simmer, resign;
I would not dwell on it;
go on; each moment is a gold,
now; the fragile hour. 

©Byung A. Fallgren

My Haiku is published in this week's journal. Thank you, Chales, Vivian, and Valerie, 
for taking the piece. --Byung