Throughout the summer, I will add to this “small book,” and share it with you as I go along.
I’ve been in a groove of writing poems within syllabic forms (each line has a specific number of syllables). Some are non-traditional haiku, some are lunes (shorter than a haiku), and some are tanka.
Something about the heat of the season lends itself to this kind of compression.
Thanks, as ever, for reading.
—JM
A Small Book of Summer 1 Even shadows melt in this heat, and cast black ink down the concrete stairs. * Poetry is all that remains between us—here in a single breath. * Shapely with the scent of lilacs— the slow summer wind. * A flower reaches through the heat, attached and un- attached to its stem. * Blue chicory sprawls along a hill, verging on purple. Further up, an old stone church looms, leans deep into its own shadow.
So beautiful! The lilac poem especially. I found a book by Issa on my shelf a few weeks ago and read it through twice. It opened my heart. Same here.
Absolutely beautiful; thank you.