Bob Lucky
 

at the market
a bowl of blood
on the table —
the turtle's legs paddle air
as the monger cuts away

I've spent hours
on this pebbled shore
skimming stones —
all my thoughts
at the bottom of the lake

a handful of grass
offered to the sky
rejected
I lie down
face up in the field

picking out
a sad melody
on the uke —
it's hard to give
melancholy its due

this gloom
like a dust storm
approaching —
the office doorknob
inexplicably shiny

having forsaken
god in my youth…
now I take the plunge
and bow down before
all gods of plumbing

Bob Lucky lives with his family in Hangzhou, China, where he teaches history and occasionally braves the traffic in his little red car from Great Wall Motors. His work has appeared in various international journals.

Copyright 2008: Simply Haiku