Cuttings - April

Haiku, Concrete and Short Poems

By Mike Garofalo 
Red Bluff, Tehama County, Northern California

head on hand
eyes down –
whiskey breath

Buddha's birthday –
2566 candles
burned to nothing.
 [Siddhartha Gautama, circa: 4/8/563-483 BC]

roses
cut in the rain
pouring fragrances

Mt. Shasta in
my rearview mirror –
Mozart on a CD.

Her long stare;
a wink away
from the blush.

Arguing about Iraq
over lunch –
heartburn.    

The truth beyond words
beyond silence –
her big grin.

Absentmindedly
walking nowhere –
orange sunrise. 

Black butterflies
making love –
April moon.

Ahh!  The wide almond groves in full white flower
Stunning in the morning sun.
Old naked Winter in his garb of grays and browns has run.
Forsythia blooms come and go in the blink of a yellow Eye,
Then, suddenly, mysteriously, Green erupts; and we sigh.

Dropped off
body and mind –
weeding new cuttings.

Pines needles
silvered by the sun –
clear blue skies.

Flowers flying
in the breeze –
sweet scents of spring.  

April showers –
dogs cower
from the thunder.  

A homeless man shivers in the sunshine.
Home of the free; land of the hungry.

Soldiers on both sides
shiver at dawn –
homesick.  

iridescent red
hedge roses –
scattered fog

one less
blanket on the bed –
April

Easter morning –
rising over stones
poppies.

Patriotism ripens till rotten
And the stink of revenge
Perfumes the victory prayers,
Or pathetic platitudes intoned.
Flesh falls from bones,
Sons become tombstones;
Mothers moan, fathers groan,
Brokenhearted in empty homes.

the military graveyard
needs mowing –
not a soul in sight 

Storing away
winter clothes –
months since she died.

Full speed into the void –
arriving late
before anyone.

2,000 pound bombs
explode –
freedom rings   

    the icy silence
    day after day –
smoldering anger  

She caught my eye,
high in the sycamore
a poised hawk.

America attacks –
flags hang
at half-mast.  

walking in the weeds
    Sneezing
into the spring breeze

Weathered shed,
screens crawling with wasps
shaking in the April gale.

Two mares snoozing
in the tall spring grass –
cold north wind.

Web of grapevines
    crisscrossing the trellis
ants ........

Sunday rest
on shaded grass -
sermons by cherry blossoms.

Everyone smiling
on the warm clear day –
Spring Fever.

Red winter,
Creamy white spring,
green summer –
firethorn.

Cheering our hearts –
flushed spring leaves
applaud the winds.

Heartsick girl
sobbing on the schoolyard –
mind moves - flag flaps.

Flip-flopping leaves:
silver, green, silver, green, silver ...
indecipherable winds.

Walnuts
last to leaf;
The Queen makes us wait.

Reading Issa,
sipping tea
smiling.    

McDonald's Breakfast Club –
the good ol' boys
calling for Al-Quida blood.

Headless mouse
    by the back door
ruthless cat.

bad dream –
the sitcom laugh track
wakes me up.    

Hot boulders
drying creek beds –
greening willows.

He raises a toast
we pause ...
lifting our spirits.

a long drag,
a slow exhale –
deeper into dreams

long thick hair
    my eyes to Full Hips
wandering lust

Scattering
behind the mower;
Clumps
of wet cut grass.

Jerked awake from
wrestling with demons.
Wunded dawn
bloodied but triumphant
reborn
utterly fresh. 

walking on and on .........
my sweat steams back

Pine candles flickering green,
junipers yellow headed,
roses vibrant red ...  Stopping - I stared!

trenches dug –
sore back
tired arms 

plastic chair
blown on its back,
resting today

below the bridge –
    a wrinkled crone
    sleeping alone 

She pours more tea
politely –
our chopsticks pause.

Bees in pink-purple
plum blossoms –
first days of spring.

slowly awakening
curled in the covers ...
           smelling coffee

Full kiai
    bouncing off the dojo walls –
        shaking in sweat-soaked gi

Enlivened gestures
perfect and strong.
T'ai Chi Ch'uan with Patricia Long.

Taxes forgotten –
weeding
mindlessly

Tax and spend Democrats.
Borrow and spend Republicans.
Nobody else can get elected, so
we fold up the flag. 

Stop!
Under this huge cottonwood
Dancing up a storm 

black life on dead pulp –
a fly
on my book 

working on
a split rain fence –
big brown hawk
hiding his claws

Lively white cat,
dead brown sparrow:
Didn't get along!

black cows
fattened on high green grass
shadowed by black clouds

Truckload of cattle
on Slaughterhouse Road.
The would have not lived
without man. 

Red Bluff Ro'day'o
Rounding e'm up –
Pointy toed boots and Stetsons.

The thousandth time
the train tracks roared –
dogs again bark back.

Cut grass clings to
wet brown boots – 
daybreak. 

Sick son
worried
as I.

thin arms,
balding heads –
cancer ward

cold
x-ray room
groaning patients

savoring each thin breath –
the weak old man
recovers from pneumonia

My son,
weakening ...
sleeping half the day.

Stopped!
    Sunset Road Panorama
    pulled me over

half a leek left –
somewhere content
a farting gopher

Backyard rock garden
my Stone Forest of Yunnan –
beloved odd stones.

Chicken manure
ca ca doodle do do –
foul food for squash

Into the twilight –
a brown jackrabbit
heads to the pond

Peacocks and guinea hens
screeching –
the foals bolt.

Weeds in bloom
bright red, yellow, white –
mowed down.

Preachers
gagging on their false truths –
infants vomiting formula.

Samsara winks
Spring smiles –
    Nirvana trickles underground.

bloody dead dog
crushed again –
turning trucks

One week a hero for many,
next week an enemy for some –
Palm Sunday

A woodpecker's knock
Cracks the quiet sky
Echoing off hardwoods

One not two,
two not one –
legs on a snake.

The dark pines edge the deepest shade,
While cherry blossoms set and fade.

In downtown Portland, the sunlight shimmers
In walls of glass, mirroring steel and river.

Sea and creek meet
over rocks and sand –
    noisy reunion

one toad
occasionally croaking –
lonely garden

Unafraid of demons
baffled by the zig-zag bridge –
the yellow carp swims
straight on.

lush green meadow
orange glazed –
poppies

skittish girls
ogling a cute boy –
blushing

Redbuds in bloom:
purple on purple,
Royal purple.

Pekin and Rouen
ducklings in the brooder,
peeping not quacking.

white roses
white cherry blossoms –
up in the blue dawn

hot rod parade
up Hilltop Road –
"Cool April Nights"

Years ago ...
my dad died –
the sadness still comes
and goes.

I held his hand
limp and pulseless;
both of us breathless.

my Dad for fifty years,                           
Forever now:  a dead man.

Michael James Garofalo  1/10/1916 - 4/2/1997

Cuttings:    February     March    April     May     June

Copyrighted © 2008 by Michael P. Garofalo. 
Green Way Research, Red Bluff, California.
All rights reserved.

I Welcome Your Comments, Ideas, Contributions, and Suggestions
E-mail Mike Garofalo in Red Bluff, California

Who is Mike Garofalo?

Cuttings:  April Spring Days
Haiku, Concrete and Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
First Distributed on the Internet WWW in September 1999.

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