Remembering a time in my life when I still found people interesting and believed in the future. I think I’m happier now that I have no particular expectations.
once again
finding my fly unzipped
Independence Day
The full moon is bright enough that for once, moths aren’t drawn to the light of my phone. Their wings brush against my pale legs as I sit out in the meadow, drinking homebrew and jotting down these notes with one finger.
fireworks done,
the milkweed’s honey-
suckle scent
***
Process notes
the video combines footage from our own little backyard celebration on Friday night with the footage and audio of the full moon on Saturday night, when I did indeed sit outside, as the haibun says, jotting down haiku and senryu as they popped into my head like a sad parody of an aging haijin. Rejects included:
moon on the meadow
the flight paths
of white moths
*
fire
works
hard
*
moon in conjunction
with Jupiter
I blame Putin
*
That “Yee-hah!” during the credits is me. Just in case there’s any doubt whether my misanthropy extends to myself.
OTHER POSTS IN THE SERIES
- Self-Quarantine
- Pandemic Time
- Quarantine Walk
- Putting a Garden In
- Face Masks
- Flag of Hate
- Spring Evening
- Brachiate
- How to Care
- Public Relations
- Out of Whack
- Tadpool
- In the Fullness of Time
- Unrest
- Robber Fly
- Truncated
- Independence Day
- Drought
- Augury
- Descent
- Crickets
- Execution
- Arboreal
- Nuthatch
- In Common
- Undivided
- Antennae
- Presence
- Losing Maizy
- Heard on High
- Epiphan’t
- Smell Pox
- Winter Den
- 55
- Unforgetting
- Animist
- Exclusive
- Ephemeroptera
- Song Dogs
- Sproing