Tag Archives: Writings

hagakure

the fox with the sword
he never uses his words
like a samurai
he prefers meditation
over a cherry petal

in silence he feels
a longing for the highlands
there’s no other goal
fox life is the only way
darting through the foggy fens

fleet of foot & tail
the gods can barely spot him
or trace his bearing

the fox looks yonder
at thunder on the mountain
the gods are angry
or maybe they are happy
the cherry petal flutters

ascension begins
climbing over nook & rock
fox ‘neath the lit skies
crystal droplets pelting down
the sword’s unblemished blade edge

fleet of foot & tail
the gods can fairly ponder
his vulpine essence

the fox at the peak
sees the gods in their true form
bow to each other
& then they sit side by side
for endless meditation

so he makes his choice
tender the fox lays his sword
down for the last time
soars into the lawless sky
turning into a petal

fleet of foot & tail
the gods can only look on
in silent envy

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2024

mimic

it was just a dream
of guillermo del toro
with his eyes sewn closed
chortling on a bed
near a wall crawling with bugs
as jack black looked on
were they both brothers
from a different mother
was the real question

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2025

GUEST POST // Twinkle, Twinkle by Whitecatgrove

O south star through the trees seen — where are
your kin on this flustered night? Hidden,
shy, sequestered in the sky above
the cooling clouds and their sparkling motes.

The half-empty moon has tipped his cup,
let the dregs fall upon the slumbered Earth.
We travel from darkness to darkness,
the light intermittent, inconstant,

afflicted with mighty tracts of void.
Your perturbations are a matter
of atmosphere: that is to say, Earth,
not that mighty glare on the other side

of time. We are phantoms: you of the past
long-dissipated, me of the future
yet unimagined, each tender view
occluded by ice crystals and chance —

by WHITECATGROVE
© All rights reserved 2026

your personal jesus

i am what i am
your very own spinning wheel
spin me until you get what you feel
or put me on a car, i will get you far
or put a hamster in me so
we get nowhere fast, i do not care

take me down off the tree
whenever you need a reason
i am your dedicated fruit machine
a revolving door of tide & whim
a cog in the christian fascist regime
a twist of the key in a nail scarred hand

i am what you say that i say i am
at which point i frankly don’t give a damn
whatever you need is all i can be
but there is one thing i would ask of you
to put me back when you are done

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2026

TATI’s & TONY’s DEAD POET TOUR // Song. by Thomas Runciman

Life with the sun in it –
Shaded by gloom!
Life with the fun in it –
Shadowed by Doom!

Life with its Love ever haunted by Hate!
Life’s laughing morrows frowned over by Fate!
Young Life’s wild gladness still waylaid by Age!
All its sweet badness still mocking the sage!
What can e’er measure the joy of its strife?

What boundless leisure
Count the heaped treasure
Of woe, that’s the pleasure
And beauty of Life?

by THOMAS RUNCIMAN (1841 – 1909)
Public Domain Poetry