Layne Russell

branches

tea named

          Sky Between the Branches

               hot, with sugar and latte

drunk in with

three jazz guitars and sax

I write in darkness

as lit rain falls

          outside a wall of

               green framed windows

and distant nights in Canada

     drive by on wet streets

time is an angel

lost in the night

looking for morning

          in breath of sax

               and guitar fingers

I remember the alley

in Vancouver

where jazz fell

from the tiny doorway

headlong into the

          sleepy night

and inside life grooved and

music moved till dawn

          the same sky

               between branches

carries the night

          on eighteen strings

               and blown, molded air

 

 

 

Haiku (Set 1)

blue January

               snow stands still

                               on the peaks

---

hongkhongkhongkhongk!

                through the sunlit leaves

                                six geese overhead

---

rising up

                the strong wings fan

                                  silver water falling