Thursday, April 30, 2009

Deer mice

naked in a globe of twigs, springtime—
for now
it is the world

* * *

a dusty shed,
holes in the clapboard...
breathe shallow while sweeping

* * *

quiet as a mouse—
made that way
by owl and marsh hawk

* * *

dots in the snow,
a broken line between:
the larder is empty

* * *

held to the ground,
rendered asunder—
another life awaits?


Matt Mullenix said...

Nice, Mark. Have you read Berry's Whitefoot? I got it for my kids. I think you'll like it.

Chas S. Clifton said...

Hantavirus haiku: Now there's a specialized genre!

Mark Churchill said...


I was hoping someone would notice that one...


I'll look for the book. Thanks for the tip.