Cuttings - Spring

Haiku, Concrete and Short Poems


By Mike Garofalo 
Red Bluff, Tehama County, Northern California


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head on hand
eyes down
whiskey breath



Dry wind
the sweetness
of the last cherry.



Last day of Spring
ripe purple plums drop
form is emptiness.

First day of Summer
ditch completely dry
emptiness is form.   



Thousands of leaves
shake in the breeze
empty sky. 



ticking my life away
    indifferent clocks



Walking the fence line, eyes downcast;
Humming a rock tune, smiling at last. 



hand on head
eyes down
whiskey breath  




Redbud Branch in Bloom, A Concrete Poem by Michael P. Garofalo.





Lathhouse shade
the scent of honeysuckle
fills the shadows.



Dirty hand, callused palm,
black fingernails
Green Thumb  



headless mouse
    by the back door
ruthless cat 



Ahh!  The wide almond groves in full white flower
Stunning in the morning sun.
Old naked Winter in his garb of grays
and browns has run.
Forsythia blooms come and go in the blink of a yellow Eye,
Then, suddenly, mysteriously, Green erupts; and we sigh. 



walking in the weeds
into the spring breeze  



Easter morning
rising over stones



Under our floor,
spider families.
Two worlds,
an inch apart.  



covered with ants 
dead lizard
disappearing ..... bit by bit  



    Wide mind, Deep feelings



Red Bluff Ro'day'o
Rounding e'm up
pointy toed boots and Stetsons 



A homeless man shivers in the sunshine.
Home of the free; land of the hungry.  






Sunday rest
on shaded grass -
sermons by cherry blossoms.



Magpies hop and squawk to start our day,
begging for dog food in the feeder tray.



a long drag,
a slow exhale
deeper into dreams



No flowers, no bees;
No bees, no flowers.
Blooming and buzzing,
Buzzing and blooming;
Married and still in Love.



trenches dug
sore back
tired arms



black cows
fattened on high green grass
shadowed by black clouds



Old frog
crawls out of hole



The thousandth time
the train tracks roared
dogs again bark back.



Up and down, up and down, up and down;
two hummingbirds fussing round and round.



A woodpecker's knock
Cracks the quiet sky
Echoing off hardwoods



The force of Spring -
powerful beyond measure.



Cloudless morning
pale blue sky
lonely meadowlark's cry.



one toad
occasionally croaking
lonely garden





Onion Garden, A Concrete Poem by Michael P. Garofalo.





Unafraid of demons
baffled by the zig-zag bridge
the yellow carp swims
straight on.



Nimble fingers picking
fistfuls of cherries
spitting pits.  



cottonwood fluff
stuck to dry weeds
silent wind chimes  



The Mind is a vast Bodhi forest,
The body a Bodhi tree.
Dirt is in every cranny,
Flowers blossom, leaves fall.

The Bodhi Trees have been cut down,
The Bright Mirrors shattered.
Beginning with nothing,
Replant the trees, remake the mirrors.

Make one's mind like a mirror,
One's body like the Giving tree.
Reflect accurately and impartially;
Give fruit and shade. 
-   Above the Fog 



Good weather all the week, but come the weekend the weather stinks. 
Springtime for birth, Summertime for growth; and all Seasons for dying.
Ripening grapes in the summer sun - reason enough to plod ahead. 
Springtime flows in our veins.  
Beauty is the Mistress, the gardener Her salve. 
A soul is colored Spring green.  
Complexity is closer to the truth. 
All metaphors aside - only living beings rise up in the Springtime; dead beings stay quite lie down dead. 
Winter does not turn into Summer; ash does not turn into firewood - on the chopping block of time. 
Fresh fruit from the tree - sweet summertime! 
Gardens are demanding pets. 
Shade was the first shelter. 
When the Divine knocks, don't send a prophet to the door. 
One spring and one summer to know life's hope; one autumn and one winter to know life's fate. 
Somehow, someway, everything gets eaten up, someday. 
Relax and be still around the bees. 
Paradise and shade are close relatives on a summer day. 
Absolutes squirm beneath realities. 
The spiders, grasshoppers, mantis, and moth larva are all back:  the summer crowd has returned!
To garden is to open your heart to the sky.
Dirty fingernails and a calloused palm precede a Green Thumb.
Time will tell, but we often fail to listen.  
Seeing with one eye and feeling with the other does help bring things into focus.  
Round things are very nice - fruit, women, the earth.   
Gardening is a passion to continue, despite failure and uncertainty.  
The empty garden is already full.  
Gardeners learn to live in worm time, bee time, and seed time.
Pulling Onions, by Michael P. Garofalo   



Flesh to flesh



Weeds turn yellow as the days grow long;
we move the sprinkler on the lawn.





















Cuttings:    February    March    April     May     June




Months and Seasons
Quotes, Poems, Saying, Lore, Myths, Celebrations
Holidays, Gardening Chores






















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Copyrighted 2008 by Michael P. Garofalo. 
Green Way Research, Red Bluff, California.
All rights reserved.


I Welcome Your Comments, Ideas, Contributions, and Suggestions
E-mail Mike Garofalo in Red Bluff, California


Who is Mike Garofalo?


Cuttings:  Spring: March, April, May, June Days
Haiku, Concrete and Short Poems by Michael P. Garofalo
First Distributed on the Internet WWW in September 1999.


The Spirit of Gardening

Quotes for Gardeners

Zen Poetry

Concrete Poetry

Cuttings - Haiku, Concrete, and Short Poems by Mike Garofalo

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