Posts Tagged ‘ haibun ’

Petersen Field

late winter bone stillness of the field. dog’s soft footfall herding gait in figure eights encircling us, ghost-like, chasing shadows as they engulf us; knows no less than we whose footsteps spoon snow parfait crust halted by a clutch of briar on the northside of the workers’ house “in ruin before they left ten years ago,” says this new friend and suddenly we’re in the open field—escaped into late day light and free, for a while, to feel the farm’s passing millennium; the golf course recently finalized that will come of the next. we turn slowly to face each other. staggering greyness of sky surprises with a hem of orange light from behind the far away and darkening hills
the white dog
up the snowy rise
disappears

~ Donna Fleischer
in Contemporary Haibun Vol 4
Red Moon Press

nakazora*

they enter beneath an aureole of blue sky cupping a rose garden gazebo with nippled roof radiating so many paths of desire

they fall

to the earth they

fall to love

~ Donna Fleischer
(first publication)

*for Buddhists nakazora is a realm which exists between earth and sky where birds and other beings fly; path of desire is an architectural term signifying a short cut

odyssey, a haibun by Donna Fleischer

odyssey

just me and claude — big, longhair black cat dozing under the back porch. a poem or two and bird song in the air. on my second cup of dandelion tea. time out from too much work. glad to feel sunshine and rhythms different from the pre-packaged twenty-four.

neighbor’s compressor makes me jump. same feeling as when this trapdoor heart of mine drops into the past. my mother’s suffering, my pain now. yet feeling something new. compassion for myself. i’d learned as a kid that this was something people ought to have for others. but where does it start? putting both feet down on this sweet, dark earth i discover that in owning nothing, i belong to everything.

the earth knows us–
even as we turn
our backs

machine whine stops. this day resumes. the force of spring is everywhere. soundings—hammer and nail houses going up nearby; the chain-sawed trees and our dazed silences; highway pistons and gears dropping; helicopter rotors.

breathing

real work today–

doing my part

~ Donna Fleischer

in Presence, issue 35, 2007


On Usedom, a haibun by Donna Fleischer

On Usedom

We find our way, Betty, and I, to her beloved friends’ doorstep in Neeberg, a German village of 30 on the Baltic Sea island of Usedom. Once the summer home to Russian czars, German kaisers. Today Ruth and Werner, Tabea, ten, and four-year-old rambunctious Joram greet us in English and soccer scores. My first morning after sharing chocolate muesli I wander far afield in poppies with the drowned poet Paul Celan, writing this in my head. Time in waves; wild blackberry paths to the sea; East Frisian black tea with brown rum and a sugar cube; fish at night, netted each morning from the Baltic near our door by the village fisherman (also the mayor, real estate agent, emergency medic, and reporter), born, grown up, and still in his place

pulling the dark net

to his wee boat at dawn

September moon slips through

Treks on foot skirting deep, loamy furrows and rootstocks, gleeful, me and Moritz (elegant, like his neuroscience theories), from one end of town to another with far-ranging conversation and pockets of silence. Getting to know an other — hey! there’s Tom, the mayor’s sea-wizened black-and-white cat, looking to us and out at sea. I recite Bob Arnold’s poem SURE to him. He seems to relate

The cat hides away all

Day asleep and thinks nothing

Of coming out and wanting a kiss

Convergences for dinner, stories, laughter; new friends, Moritz, of course, and Bettina, a psychoanalyst; more poetry, running out of wine, fireplace ablaze, and politics of an unforgettable campaign year, 2008, these Germans reassured in Barack Obama, in America

Flying home. Over Germany, England, Ireland, the Atlantic. The world and our lives with it so vast and collapsible.

Donna Fleischer

September 11, 2009

Presence #40 (January 2010)