The Fool's World

 The Softness of the Hardness: a Hyakuin Renga 

 Poem by Joshua St. Claire & Amber Winter

 From the Archive of Saint Augustine's Magazine
Volume 2, No. 1 (2023).

beating the odds
to find you
Las Vegas snow

reaching past the city limits
everywhere we share is home

crisp morning
smell of cinnamon
fills the air

pigeons flit up
then settle on the wires

gentle twisting
the snap
of the pear stem

in the eddies of the stream
the first fallen leaves

learning next time
she shouldn’t swallow
Moon Dancer Winery

as she always said
spring forward and fall back

Autumnal Equinox
a ring-necked pheasant
frozen in the median

hearing her child play the triangle once
two hours well spent

a procession
of nymphs and fauns make merry
beyond the horizon

mother’s tail waddling
the ducklings form a line

a sushi roll
shrimp and cucumber inside
avocado outside

somersaulting down the hill
grass stains their momento

bullfrogs
losing count
of the Lyrids

mason jar on the windowsill
fireflies keep monsters away

a box fan
flips the lunar atlas
to the dark side

chocolates her trail
to the bath for two

the sweetness
in the swelling
of her hips

as she takes off her cover-up
a large surge overtakes the beach

his hives buzz the almonds
his mind on mead
not blossoms

hot from the oven
the slow drizzle of honey

strawberry shortcake
her fingertips stained red
from hulling

christening the ship
what a waste of good champagne!

the mirror
isn’t the only thing
his fists shattered

seven years bad luck
in Leavenworth

ball and chain
he tightens
her gag

the safe word garbled:
“slubberdegullion”

the dirtier the better
he counts out the quarters
to put in the bed

what dwells among the trees
in Acadia National Park?

mystery of Stonehenge
the toddler balances
himself across the railing

I kept telling them
to stay out of the hawthorns

only fearing the plunge
while hippos lurked below
Victoria Falls Devil’s Pool

another decade
in jet and black lace

days feel like years
waiting for the Ice Moon
to thaw

at absolute zero it would form
a Bose-Einstein Condensate

whispering a kōan:
am I the square root
of negative one?

collection plate, child exclaims
“Wow, dad is that a real hundred?!”

Ephrata Cloister
the softness of the hardness
of a wooden pillow

running late for Monday night football
Amish horse and buggy tailgating

the revolutionaries
even invented a calendar
to erase the past

could scientists accept Pluto
if it still identifies as a planet?

the old couple
complains about the ginkgo nuts
that the squirrels crave

grandpop’s worn flannel
now flaps on the scarecrow

coral spawn
the Darkest Depths Moon
becomes myriad

light shining down the rabbit hole
he’s too far to reach

so he goes deeper
toward the voices singing
Don’t come around here no more*

fairies dance to
the man with the stone flute

for just a week
the apple blossoms
soften the granite

laying nine pink peonies
one for each month of her life

graduation aisle
her first steps
into the next chapter

the coelacanth wriggles
onto the sand

bikini top
washes ashore
boys await eagerly

Haleakala’s summit
covered in clouds

trying to make sense
of his itinerary
dense fog

in his arms
a bouquet of compass roses

holding her tightly
until the reality
of the alarm clock

a pair of turtledoves
cooing at the window

fighting through the pane
visitation at the prison
ends with heartache

running through the atrium
into the sunlight

July playtime
little girl’s hair
white like grandma’s

sweet tea or lemonade,
darling?

on the saucer
bitten orange macaron
summer crescent

the Sphinx’s nose
lost to history

a flock
of passenger pigeons roost
in the chestnuts

the driver was riding high
on more than adrenaline

cast iron pan
blood spots on the yolks frying
sunny-side-up

scrambled frequencies
he fine tunes the aluminum

unzipping the skinsuit
she relishes the starshine
on her scales

lost in translation
the hiss and groan

dulcet tones
of suburban leaf blowers
muffle the worm’s cry

clogged gutters
the ladder falls away

a faceless reaper
comes in from the field
Harvest Moon

a romp in the hay
he envisions his ex

seeking
an elixir of forgetfulness
in empty glasses

countless love letters
the mail their only contact

seventeen cherry trees
survive the attack
on Washington, DC

humid swamp
moss hiding secrets

squealing piglet
next year’s
Easter ham

a-tisket a-tasket
a gasket in a casket

broken seal
aircraft door rips open
mayday! mayday!

smooth and silent at dawn
the waters of the Hudson

traversing the city
they cross the Tappan Zee
a third time

the Minotaur’s horns
redoubled in her green eyes

goats fainting
at the sight
of the wind

pampas grasses
tossing and whipping

Delilah’s betrayal
Samson’s locks and trust
hitting the floor

Mercutio’s sword
then the universe

one degree
the world shifts
into a glacial period

Maltese megaliths
frame a Frozen Moon

picture perfect Christmas
we hide our imperfections
under shiny paper

chlorine fills the foxhole
nothing emerges

Now no man at the table
knew for what intent
he spake this unto him^

the agenda deepens
Alexa and Siri say, “I do”

baby name database
deciding on the name
“Skynet”

high wire
below her the glass ceiling

Lady Elaine
leaves her loom
and blows out a candle

adding drops of lavender oil
to the fake flower bouquet

spring stars
lead us on
lilacs

on the map of my life
‘X’ marks the spot on his heart.