A Small Book of Summer

part one

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.