The Weekly Commuter

One Unconnected Day

Joa — Mon, 07 May 2012 20:37:00 +0000

You should have seen
how easily
it got away—
noiselessly and through
the window screen.
I hoped that it would stay
the way a cloud might
but I saw no more
of it and now
it’s night.

Making a Morning

Joa — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 17:25:11 +0000

I am making
a morning,
taking a moment
in the little plush chair
that spins
to face west
and hold the valley
in my head
before I test
my hot tea.
In this glass house
high on a hill
no one is awake but me.

A new haiku by Paul Spielman

Joa — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 17:23:54 +0000

Sink into the pond
She comes when I call her name
And fills me with bliss

Joa — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 16:40:17 +0000

You draw the eye of a whale
so well, as if you can tell
the way a whale feels.

You Slept

Joa — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 16:37:20 +0000

You slept
and I’m okay
pulsed through my chest.
I stopped
to listen
for your breath
before listing back
into the drift
I left
by having you.

Another haiku by Paul Spielman

Joa — Mon, 19 Mar 2012 16:35:50 +0000

I walked on the shore
conversing with bygone souls,
names long forgotten.

Haiku by Paul Spielman

Joa — Wed, 08 Feb 2012 21:12:29 +0000

My dad recently sent me a haiku he wrote and I wanted to share it here (with his permission, of course :)). Here it is:

If I say ten things,
nine will not be heard and one
will make someone sad.

I Adjust

Joa — Wed, 01 Feb 2012 19:01:38 +0000

I adjust
to no one
in my daydream of today
but you, so still,
your eyelids sealed
in sleep—
my milk bubble,
my mochi,
my softly stirring Lu.

Under the Morning Star

Joa — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 21:21:10 +0000

You forced the sunrise
on me, little girl. I’d rather
be asleep
but since we’re up
let’s open the shade—
watch the passing storm
harass the trees.

Streetlights still burn
against the gray light
blowing up the street.
Opposite us,
a light clicks on—
a neighbor
about to leave.
As she hurries to her car,
wind full in her hair,
you decide
enough with the scenery—
time to eat.
The cat agrees.

Though Less Love’s Thrown About

Joa — Tue, 24 Jan 2012 21:19:47 +0000

In favor
of the bright and fresh
I’ve heard
enough to burst
a fishing family’s
best net—heaving
with slippery fish.

While bracing, briny winds
whip me into frenzied life
as much as the next
sea maid, the dark and dim
welcome warmer feelings—
I’ve already drawn
the curtains,
pulled down
the guest quilt,
turned two loved friends away.