Andreas Gripp, CA

 

 

Free Verse   Andreas Haiku, I've heard, cuts quickly, three lines to rip our souls: Seashell on the sand Still, and silent Now, even the waves have faded.     Katherine Tides in vagaries of moon may sing into the silence as you walk the shore, sound an echo of lament for loss, Pull your feet back to my door-- although pride cuts all ties only the roken knife remains     On the Difference a Single Minute Can Make   I'm finding myself forever late and running a frantic catch-up to every place I need to be: The bus booting off as I stretch my waving arms to flag it down; The opening credits rolling as I scramble for my seat, popcorn spilling from its bag; Missing the girl I would have met— and married— had I seen her seconds sooner, before a line of people blocked our path, leaving us as stranger, our eyes to never lock. I lost out on a stellar career because I didn't see the want ad in the paper— the listing stamped for me under the arm of another seeker, who snagged the final copy of the city's daily news just a breath-and-a-half before. I want to ask my mother why she couldn't birth me faster, why she hadn't heeded the contractions just as soon as they were felt, without delay, pushed an extra bit harder when my head was popping out, that additional minute of life, that little head start, giving me adequate time to stroll to that bus stop down the street, smell some flowers along the way, tell a girl I think she's lovely, if we can meet for a funny movie when my day at the office is done. from T.O. Loveless & other poems, pp. 22-23