HAIKU I.

   entering the song
   a singer reveals itself
   as lone loon and lake

   HAIKU II.

   this cold whips through me
   whistling a preview of storm,
   the tea kettle boils.

   HAIKU III.

  in meditation
  my morning peels itself back
  sweet nectar of day
  autumn, a vanishing thought.

THE OUTSKIRTS OF AOMORI

In the space between
the tick tocking
the space between notes
half tones and whole tones
in the hues of silence and the silence of yews
in places where one curls up
and meets one's self
I glimpse a reflection in the pond
where dragonflies hang suspended.

Read more poems by
Mallie Boman

See photos from Mona Lisa, Buddha and Me.

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selected poems by Mallie Boman

THE DRAGON I bought this dragon    in Kyoto,    just 500 yen,    five dollars American I bought this dragon    on Kujo Dori    an avenue    in Kyoto I bought this dragon    at a flea market,    500 yen This dragon called to me    blew smoke,    promised we'd grow old together I bought this dragon,    a Chinese sorcerer,    far from home,    unattached to the surroundings,    rainbows glinting off metallic scales, it called to me    outside this temple,    on a street,    just near the vendor    selling used kimonos, this dragon singed    my eyebrows, called    my name Mari-san, Mei Ping, Mariko, it crooned and I picked up the metallic body cold in the sweat of a July afternoon,    on Kujo Dori in Kyoto,    it, a mottled man    and I, a modelled woman, bought this dragon,    picked out paper    yen, damp with perspiration of wanting. He sings to me, to me    disallowed    graven images,    immortals    in stone or metal,    glinting rainbows He sings to me, to me    who breathed    smoke    a lifetime ago, I bought this dragon    500 yen,    five dollars American,    in Kyoto and he sings to me of that day.