Cuttings - April

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



Buddha's birthday
2566 candles
burned to nothing.
 [Siddhartha Gautama, circa: 4/8/563-483 BC]



cut in the rain
pouring fragrances



Mt. Shasta in
my rearview mirror
Mozart on a CD.



Her long stare;
a wink away
from the blush.



Arguing about Iraq
over lunch



The truth beyond words
beyond silence
her big grin.



walking nowhere
orange sunrise. 



Black butterflies
making love
April moon.



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.



Dropped off
body and mind
weeding new cuttings.



Pines needles
silvered by the sun
clear blue skies.



Flowers flying
in the breeze
sweet scents of spring.  








April showers
dogs cower
from the thunder.  



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



Soldiers on both sides
shiver at dawn



iridescent red
hedge roses
scattered fog



one less
blanket on the bed



Easter morning
rising over stones



Patriotism ripens till rotten
And the stink of revenge
Perfumes the victory prayers,
Or pathetic platitudes intoned.
Flesh falls from bones,
Sons become tombstones;
Mothers moan, fathers groan,
Brokenhearted in empty homes.

the military graveyard
needs mowing
not a soul in sight 



Storing away
winter clothes
months since she died.



Full speed into the void
arriving late
before anyone.



2,000 pound bombs
freedom rings   



    the icy silence
    day after day
smoldering anger  



She caught my eye,
high in the sycamore
a poised hawk.



America attacks
flags hang
at half-mast.  



walking in the weeds
into the spring breeze







Weathered shed,
screens crawling with wasps
shaking in the April gale.



Two mares snoozing
in the tall spring grass
cold north wind.



Web of grapevines
    crisscrossing the trellis
ants ........



Sunday rest
on shaded grass -
sermons by cherry blossoms.



Everyone smiling
on the warm clear day
Spring Fever.



Red winter,
Creamy white spring,
green summer




Cheering our hearts
flushed spring leaves
applaud the winds.

Heartsick girl
sobbing on the schoolyard
mind moves - flag flaps.

Flip-flopping leaves:
silver, green, silver, green, silver ...
indecipherable winds.



last to leaf;
The Queen makes us wait.



Reading Issa,
sipping tea



McDonald's Breakfast Club
the good ol' boys
calling for Al-Quida blood.



Headless mouse
    by the back door
ruthless cat.



bad dream
the sitcom laugh track
wakes me up.    



Hot boulders
drying creek beds
greening willows.


He raises a toast
we pause ...
lifting our spirits.



a long drag,
a slow exhale
deeper into dreams



long thick hair
    my eyes to Full Hips
wandering lust



behind the mower;
of wet cut grass.



Jerked awake from
wrestling with demons.
Wunded dawn
bloodied but triumphant
utterly fresh. 



walking on and on .........
my sweat steams back



Pine candles flickering green,
junipers yellow headed,
roses vibrant red ...  Stopping - I stared!



trenches dug
sore back
tired arms 



plastic chair
blown on its back,
resting today



below the bridge
    a wrinkled crone
    sleeping alone 



She pours more tea
our chopsticks pause.



Bees in pink-purple
plum blossoms
first days of spring.



slowly awakening
curled in the covers ...
           smelling coffee



Full kiai
    bouncing off the dojo walls
        shaking in sweat-soaked gi



Enlivened gestures
perfect and strong.
T'ai Chi Ch'uan with Patricia Long.



Taxes forgotten



Tax and spend Democrats.
Borrow and spend Republicans.
Nobody else can get elected, so
we fold up the flag. 



Under this huge cottonwood
Dancing up a storm 



black life on dead pulp
a fly
on my book 



working on
a split rain fence
big brown hawk
hiding his claws



Lively white cat,
dead brown sparrow:
Didn't get along!



black cows
fattened on high green grass
shadowed by black clouds



Truckload of cattle
on Slaughterhouse Road.
The would have not lived
without man. 



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



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



Cut grass clings to
wet brown boots  



Sick son
as I.

thin arms,
balding heads
cancer ward

x-ray room
groaning patients

savoring each thin breath
the weak old man
recovers from pneumonia

My son,
weakening ...
sleeping half the day.



    Sunset Road Panorama
    pulled me over



half a leek left
somewhere content
a farting gopher





Sex, A Concrete Poem by Michael P. Garofalo.





Backyard rock garden
my Stone Forest of Yunnan
beloved odd stones.



Chicken manure
ca ca doodle do do
foul food for squash



Into the twilight
a brown jackrabbit
heads to the pond



Peacocks and guinea hens
the foals bolt.



Weeds in bloom
bright red, yellow, white
mowed down.



gagging on their false truths
infants vomiting formula.










Samsara winks
Spring smiles
    Nirvana trickles underground.



bloody dead dog
crushed again
turning trucks



One week a hero for many,
next week an enemy for some
Palm Sunday



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



One not two,
two not one
legs on a snake.



The dark pines edge the deepest shade,
While cherry blossoms set and fade.



In downtown Portland, the sunlight shimmers
In walls of glass, mirroring steel and river.



Sea and creek meet
over rocks and sand
    noisy reunion



one toad
occasionally croaking
lonely garden



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



lush green meadow
orange glazed



skittish girls
ogling a cute boy



Redbuds in bloom:
purple on purple,
Royal purple.



Pekin and Rouen
ducklings in the brooder,
peeping not quacking.



white roses
white cherry blossoms
up in the blue dawn



hot rod parade
up Hilltop Road
"Cool April Nights"



Years ago ...
my dad died
the sadness still comes
and goes.

I held his hand
limp and pulseless;
both of us breathless.

my Dad for fifty years,                           
Forever now:  a dead man.

Michael James Garofalo  1/10/1916 - 4/2/1997










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


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

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