Marc Awodey

7 untitled: haiku & serenyu

*
your voice is
       buried
now
muffled by paper
a haiku
avalanche

*
birch leaves
murmur under one
billion
raindrops
no cricket
listens

*
tuesday's moon-
a bone
            china
    saucer half filled
with cold and strong
        black tea

*
songs
we spilled
over ruby sunrise
hours
slump now as
vesper   psalms

*
i read    Baudelaire,
my ex-wife drove alone
to a christmas party

*
fading   into   sand
    i am
a hermit crab
blind
        meticulous

*
i can write no more
    this night
has been very long
sleep
brings my
          wages

Detroit: a pantoum

thumbed back
down to memorize
your sound

caterwauling
at River Rouge
sweat muscatel,

and motor oil,
sunken junk
bulldozer

tires-
caterwauling
at River Rouge.

just a husk
of blue crayfish
and sunken junk

bulldozer tires-
insides out
a carmine flag

just a husk
of blue crayfish
signs of the times

assaulted tan
calloused insides
a carmine flag

high on
the phrases
of your slang.

Signs of the times
assaulted twice
mad moon tracked flesh

sweat muscatel
and motor oil
high on

the phrases
of your slang
I thumbed

back down to memorize
your sound.

Copyright © 2004 Marc Awodey

Cover Design: Joseph McNair