Cuttings: August
Haiku, Senryu, Brief Poems, Quintains
Summer Season
1998 - 2025
By Mike Garofalo
Place, Setting, Location:
Vancouver,
Clark County,
Columbia River Valley,
Washington,
2017-2025
High beams
brighten the lane—
low yellow moon.
Limp hummingbird
held in my hand;
one wing broken.
"Dirty old man"
says she, with a wry frown;
slipping her panties down.
the small branches sagged
the wilting leaves drooped
by 4 pm it was 100°F;
end of August
Heat Wave!!!
weeding—
move away
spider
I sit, still.
The canyon river chants,
moving mountains.
wallet
empty—
paycheck late
bitter radish—
cutting up
vegetables
desklap bright
opens the night—
reader's delight
cool wind
August morning ...
smiling, sipping coffee,
smoking Lemon Amnesia
stoned in
Crawling out the hole
dug by the busy mole;
he looked around, frowned,
then burrowed back down
into his cozy tunnels below.
We ate doughnuts from Tonallis.
I smoked pot from the Herbery.
We drank hot mocha coffees.
I watered pots on the porch.
Wednesday, mid-August, in the Couve.
[Couve = City of Vancouver,
Washington. My home town.]
Place, Setting, Location:
Red Bluff, Tehama County,
North Sacramento Valley,
California, 1998-2016
Buzzards circling
higher and higher—
bright sky.
Duck feathers
drifting on the pond—
dappled dusk sky.
Numb feet
despite the August heat;
a diabetic's lament.
Sunset!
Mosquitoes attack,
we retreat.
lightening
and lightening bugs—
beyond words
The beans grow by themselves
I water by drip irrigation
Summertime dry heat stays
Teahouse seat in willow's shade
I rest quietly, sip tea
tiny fly
alone on a leaf;
motionless
Getting older—
my grandfather's or
my face in the mirror?
swaying cottonwood trees
hiding the moon—
daybreak
Crape myrtle, brilliant red, bursting forth;
Hiding the garden.
Some days, only the Garden, entire, serene;
Yet, hiding from sight, shy, single plants.
Seeing Both, seldom, but as One:
Sweat poured from my startled brow,
Dripping on the dry earth,
And all became Sunshine
And shadows of surprise unraveling.
dark green
bean field—
blazing sun
Working in the new garden—
a big ol' toad
halved by the hoe.
black figs fattening
in the bright sun—
birdless skies
Dusk, finally,
heat drops away,
fading summer day.
Darting at full-speed
to tag the tree—
"Mollee-ollee-in-free."
a field of star thistles—
full of sound
at twilight
Beyond barbed wire
Beyond, beyond, far beyond—
Cows marching Over.
Freely
jumping over
our childish
limitations.
Shriveled gourd
all wrinkled and brown—
Halloween mummy.
the willow's shade—
ducks and I
mutter about the heat
Fence line Capped in
Red Bottlebrush Blossoms!
"Put some sugar in my bowl,
Put a hot dog in my roll;"
Bessie Smith would sing those sexy Blues,
Long ago with Chattanooga Soul.
Exuberant young dog:
wants in, wants out,
wants everything.
hard-wired to day-light
flowing watery blood
energized by every breath...
eating peaches
summertime
At the "water" pump
Helen Keller's first word—
her soul's birthday.
Crunching
spoonfuls of Grape Nuts—
day breaks.
skunks, dogs, opossums, cats,
their last walks taken—
flat on hot asphalt
Snapping
long green beans—
sitting at the red table
The fly ball
falls over the fence—
silent fans.
Rattlesnakes scared
the ghosts away—
Igo graveyard
Plenty of e-mail, but
none from her—
virtually snubbed.
"Turn off the porch light!"
she calls from the bedroom—
two dogs curl up.
Fountain's spray
splattering over the pond—
breezy morning.
all heads bowed
all eyes closed
all ears ...
prayers for the sick
Going to and fro,
footprints on the gravel path
silently pacing.
Tall white fountain in the garden's shade,
Or cold white mountain beyond the glade,
Or brighter lights at the tunnel's end?
Stunned, but undead, awakened to begin
Again - Second Chances; seven lives left.
Tricked the Reaper, death stolen;
a celebrated theft.
With a nod to Vladimir Nabokov's Pale Fire, # 750-815.
Over-flowing ditch,
breezes make the cottonwoods hum;
strangely, birds are quiet.
Something strange hides in this day:
what will it be, what will it say?
Distraught woman
on the rooftop:
Jumps
!!
!!
!!
!!
Wasps in a frenzy
looking for their missing nest—
I'm the home wrecker.
Jackrabbits munching in the garden,
shotgun in my hand—
yes or no?
No!
All the cottonwoods
swaying in time,
midnight breezes.
August means
Watering
Picking beans
Sipping iced tea
Pulling weeds
ripe cherries
white moon
August brown
Queen Anne's Lace
ripe black berries
Flies flutterbizzling
circling, stinging, stickerring ...
Slap, Whack, Swatttttthethings!!
My tired steps are slow,
dead grass crackles underfoot,
this dry land we know.
rice, beans, tortillas
corn, squash, salsa, cervezas—
worth the heartburn
quitting time—
the hiss
of bleeding air tanks
Sputtering candles—
grandpa coughs, coughs blood,
then dies before dawn.
The deep shade is hot
over one hundred degrees.
I'm tired of summer.
My big hairy legs, white as new roots,
pulled from my pants - she teases and hoots.
A full beard hides the scars and the flaws;
too bad big bellies have no camouflage.
Trinity Canyon
shivering rafters
pull to shore—
the river moves on
one by one
jumping into the deep pool—
a swinging rope
honking horns
echo down the canyon walls—
falling rain
zig-zag walk
along the rocky riverside—
falling pine needles
I'm sitting, still.
The chanting canyon stream
is moving mountains.
NFL Football in August
Preseason TV games on weekly
From all around the USA
colorful competition
between 2nd and 3rd String
players.
On August 22, 1999, a violent dry lightening storm set scores of fires in Tehama, Trinity, Plumas, Butte, and Shasta Counties. Over 35,000 acres were burnt in Tehama County, over 58,000 acres in Trinity County, and more in the other counties. Over 15,000 firefighters struggled for six weeks afterwards to bring all the blazes under control.
Fires rage in the hills,
stinking gray smoke crawls downward—
I sit and sniff death.
My neighbors to the southeast are C.B. and Gertie. They are retired, and always busy working around their house, gardens and property. C.B. and I chat often, share vegetables and ideas.
C. B. hoeing corn.
Metal valves in his warm heart,
Puttering along just fine.
The Fremont Poplar tree sports
a few yellow leaves—
a hint of autumn.
Watered all the plants
in our home gardens;
Autumn tints in August leaves,
colorful peppers plentiful,
peaches ripen on many trees.
I first met Chang San-Feng
above the forest,
near the clear spring,
when gathering clouds
darkened the day,
and Mt. Shasta was silent.
His long beard was black
as emptiness,
ear lobes to his shoulders,
holding obsidian in his hand,
pointing to the sun,
eyes staring into infinity,
his long body clothed in silence.
We exchanged "hellos"
smiled and bowed,
a barbarian and an Immortal,
both panting from the climb,
laughing,
ten-thousand echoes
between our rocky minds.
After billions upon billions of heartbeats past
(for he must have been 888 years old),
I was so bold
as to ask the ancient one
for the sacred mantra of yore.
He lifted his whisk,
and brushed my face,
I could not speak,
my lips were stone,
ideas stopped
I was alone.
Quintains, Pentastichs, Tankas
25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works
At the Edges of the West, Volume 1
Highway 101 and Hwy 1: Pacific Coast
At the Edges of the West, Volume 2
Highway 99 and Interstate 5
Cuttings: Haiku and Short Poems
Arranged by the Seasons
Months and Seasons |
|||
Mike Garofalo lives in Vancouver,
Washington.
He worked for 50 years
in city and county
public
libraries,
and in elementary
schools. He
graduated with
degrees in
philosophy,
library science, and
education. He
has been
a web
publisher since 1998.
25 Steps and Beyond: Collected Works
Cuttings: July, Spring, Summer
First Distributed on the Internet WWW in September, 1999.
I really appreciate positive feedback,
reviews, kudos, and encouragement
about the value
of
my free webpages.
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This document was last edited, revised,
reformatted, added to, relinked,
changed, improved, or modified
by Mike Garofalo
on Auugust 31, 2025.