plastic fork sijo

(after Charles Simic)

tined from some petrochemical hell / stabbed with it into chook fat
choke my ocean throat / as if Queequeg’s back in the prow
whale-chasing down the swell / 2.3 cents for 200 years

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bread 

thank you for this dust 
tossed across the morning light
slap on well-worn boards
huff & punch    all heat   &  s……t……r……e……t……c……h   
ancient dance    this staff     this life

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plums

i left them too long
now they’re over-ripe & gone
my mother’s ghost tutts
‘waste not want not’ she insists
I make spiced jam instead

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flood

cars cows rooftop rescues
grand dams overwhelmed
everything aswirl in the bathtub
behind the sandbags
my tomato plants sag

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on my 61st birthday

(after Issa)

now gimme
7268.5 days more

 — autumn of my life

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Image: Port Kembla alley. Some smaller pieces for you to enjoy. The Charles Simic poem Fork is here; and the Issa haiku, ‘on my 50th birthday’, translated by Robert Hass (though it may have been written at 62 years) is here; the average life expectancy of males in NSW in 2017-19 is 80.7 years.

And here’s Roger Pulver with some more Issa haiku for your pleasure.