in the night
the seller of roses returns
ascending and creaking
Published by
John Sandbach
I was born in San Fransisco in 1948. I have been a professional astrologer since 1966. I am also a massage therapist, and teach at a massage school in Kansas City, Missouri. I have had two books of haiku published, "Step Into Sky", published in a bilingual edition (Japanese/English) by Happa-no-kofu press in Tokyo, and "Wrinkled Sea", published by Hikoo Press in Kansas City, Missouri.
View all posts by John Sandbach
morning, from the street
vendor yells:
FRESSSH FISSSH
One of the finest I’ve (re)read in a long while. How rose-like the seller has become: what do roses do slowly in the night? It speaks also to the close, yet distant relationships we have with neighbors to whom we are aquainted merely by sound.
redlight alley
a prostitute runs with
stilletos dangling in hand
noon-day sun
white-green orchids, implants
on her black silky dress
–
corrected e-mail address
cold night stirring
pot of black coffee–
interrupted sleep