You Can't Believe in Everything You Read (a haiku)
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September has birthed
(with hues of autumn ribbon
And golden burned curls)
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Geese have long fluttered
To havens of far seashores
While others arrived
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With vague innocence
His hollow heels clickclickclick
On Harvard concrete
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(Liquid palms blush white -
mirroring the full snowy steps
Of cobwebs and flies)
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They flutter about
In dizzy waltzes and dips
Seeking classroom warmth
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Click-Clop scream their soles
(Where am I in this hedge maze
Of pure silk-bound flies?)
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As soap flakes die mute
He exhales into spring clouds
-Deep anxiety-
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Click-Click-Click he sleds
Throughout Mr. Clean hallways
Until the tiles end . . .
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101 English
And the heat melts the frost's breath
Whilst cheeks blush scarlet . . .
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A lifetime of goals
Midnights of coffee and ink
Now tangible - true
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Paper rustles – floats
Whilst scarves and skirts sink in wood
And he steps forward
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"Welcome dear students –
Lessons we'll learn in this room–
Study . . . examine"
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Coal dust eyes survey -
Gleam in anticipation -
Like a scientist . . .
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Paper-cut hands graze
A solitary holy book
He (grins) . . . lifts it high . . .
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Slam! Pierces the room
And the tongues dull to heart drums
Thumping with cold heat
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"You cannot believe
In everything you read
Dear Harvard students!"
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His eyes fall upon words
Gold streamed letters at his feet
The Holy Bible . . .
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The grey chalk suit steps
Across the ancient pages
Diatribe began . . .
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(But) his jacket scoots
(Pale yellow and lavender
Cloth against the soot)
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His steps clickclickclick
Confronting his dreamed idol -
He kneels to the book
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Dusting off footprints
He rejects his dreamboat class
"I choose to believe . . ."