epic haikus and cosmic debris blues / by Birdie Busch


economy room
across from the scuba store
in Appalachia
cow pasture out back
trailer park homes faded colors
mexican migrants
history channel
special on ancient glaciers
geologists wax
18 wheelers roar
the Indian keeper recites
the internet code
 down the road aways
bbq served for decades
neon sign as proof
porcelain piggies
collected on a bookshelf
by the front entrance
 placid afternoons
mason dixon blues faint thoughts
rolling mountains soft
some civil war quilts
hung on walls in a town’s museum
hexagon pieces
fabric torn from a flag
to make a different flag
with a new intent
immigrant fathers
heartbroken by the divide
of their new country
cameo daughters
and their three syllable names
“oh dear Lucinda”
 i have never had
a life of such heartache
lost loved ones immense
sons met at fences
not even at the front door
to go off to war
 and here I am now
harrisonburg, va
same man on same bench
a few artful shops
connect the lively dodgers
of this existence
salvation army
is giving away pumpkins
to all customers
what is my work here
not born of necessity
but of my passions
to be of use
maybe that’s what I really want
in my simpler heart
in my other heart
every turn holds more muses
muses hold stories
i am a servant
to these everlasting songs
civil war trail blues