Enormous oak
the daylight moon in its branches
a goat at its foot
Holstein with a heart
in the middle of her forehead
loves the salt lick
Horses in the shade
of a weeping willow
a cascade of piss
Enormous oak
the daylight moon in its branches
a goat at its foot
Holstein with a heart
in the middle of her forehead
loves the salt lick
Horses in the shade
of a weeping willow
a cascade of piss
Print
[...] more visible, but this didn’t make the goat look any less otherworldly. Commenters on “Livestock,” the post in which it appeared, likened it to Pan or a [...]
This is the weblog of Dave Bonta, a poet, editor, and shutterbug from the eastern edge of western Pennsylvania. For background on the site, see the About page. For more about me, see my Google profile.

Order from the publisher or
Contact me for a signed copy or to barter for your own book. Central PA residents can buy it at Webster's.
Qarrtsiluni, a literary magazine I co-edit
Festival of the Trees, a blog carnival I co-founded
Open Micro, a group blog I belong to dedicated to poetry in 140 or fewer characters
Moving Poems, my daily compendium of video poems from YouTube, Vimeo, and beyond
The Morning Porch, Twitter-length prose-poems based on the view from my porch first thing in the morning
Woodrat Photoblog, "a midden of photos from a Pennsylvania mountaintop"
Shadow Cabinet, an online collection of my more recent poems
Spoil, an online collection of my older poems
(For a complete listing, see my Google profile)
Dick Jones' Patteran Pages
The painter washes his hands on the flannel of the sky
Everything is in gouts of colour
And the hats of the passing women are comets
across the evening’s fire.
----
Parmanu
But Hopper didn’t paint any snowy landscapes, did he? I wonder why. The loneliness and solitude of people in his cityscapes would, it seems to me, be accentuated in a street filled with snow. I can almost imagine the effect of streetlamp light bouncing off the snow, and the resulting shadows on nearby objects.
----
Mutating the Signature
Don’t bring your tires
stripped of hot rims, or used
condoms, syringes or jumbo sized
needles. Leave the headless
doll in the truck, along with wrappers,
giddy snack vestiges and Keystone
cans.
----
the cassandra pages
Her features rubbed with a wooden spoon,
Fadwa's Damascene face emerges
beneath my hands black with printing ink...
----
Clive Hicks-Jenkins' Artlog
I may yet soften the massed patterning of leaves and branches, but it nevertheless has to be present, carefully arranged to suggest a foliate barricade made by a careful gardener to create a safe oasis from the wilderness beyond. Perhaps I'll put some sheep on the distant hills rising to the upper edge of the painting. And some low mounds of rock plants. The painting evolves and becomes dense with shapes and patterning, shadow and highlight, colour and tone.
----
everything feeds process
In stories like Alice in Wonderland, Wizard of Oz or The Little Mermaid, the main character has to make sense of a world that is not her own. In my mind, this is an excellent metaphor for living as a grown-up in modern times.
----
slow reads
This cold has eyes, not menacing or even intent ones, but the limpid eyes of the cold dead, the kind of eyes that feel every nape’s tooth marks. This cold moves as slowly as black water, silently as the far side of fish: unpied, canopied — the crosshatch of hawks.
----
Coyote Mercury
Somewhere along those dusty Philippine roads my fascination with war turned to recoiling as I realized it was one thing to reenact battles with my friends, but quite another to walk endless miles along a trail of brutality, hopelessness and murder. I think it was then that the idea of war began to move from fantasy to nightmare as we walked through Bataan imagining the sheer horror of the reality our reenactment was meant to remember.
----
The Middlewesterner
Even the crow
knows nothing
except that hope
is a kind of
uselessness.
----
Heraclitean Fire
And while zebra finches aren’t exactly imbued with an enormous amount of dignity at the best of times, there was something slightly off-putting about seeing these little birds with their own aims and desires in life being cajoled into being art.
----
All content by Dave Bonta at Via Negativa is available for reprint and remix under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.



There’s elegant haiku and then there’s piss. I couldn’t help laughing. Love the photos too. Good night~
Actually, I thought the last one was the most elegant. :)
Enjoyed the haiku and photos.
Thanks for stopping by.
Give a horse some privacy!
Hey, they could’ve waited until we were gone! I think they were expressing their contempt of tourists.
:) probably so!
(Great photos! At first, I thought the goat was superimposed on the picture of the tree. The goat looks so fragile and otherworldly against the grand, telluric tree.)
“Telluric” is a bitchin’ word.
I thought so, too. I ran across it a couple of days ago, and this is the first time I’ve used it.
I think I first encountered it some years back in a translation of a Cesar Vallejo poem, along with the word glebe (q.v.).
Wonderful. But that first one looks like a unicorn to me.
Thanks. Excellent point. I think subconsiously I was responding to a certain resemblance to that famous Medieval tapestry of a unicorn.
The goat does seem to be floating. But I would say more Pan than Unicorn.
I had the word “float” in my first draft of the haiku, as a matter of fact.
The post title is wonderfully understated — perfect for the scenes and poetry that follow.
Thanks. I do like minimal titles.
Great photos and haiku. I too thought that goat looked magical as if it were floating. Your mention of a tapestry was the Ah-ha moment!
Oh, good. Thanks. (I missed this comment yesterday; sorry. I wasn’t ignoring you.)
I thought the goat must be a double exposure type collage thingy. I usually wait till the horses have finished their evacuations before photgraphing them, you make me feel awfully prissy and lacking in creative endeavour, it is glorious the way they stand and put their backs into it, isn’t it?
Great stuff here, as ever,
Thanks, Lucy. No, no double exposures. I did select the dark portions of the shot and lighten them so the tree bark would be visible, and this made the goat a more uniform shade of white. The resulting otherworldly impression appealed to me, and I decided to build on it with a couple other effects, although I figured that would make it look like a bit like a collage.
Great pairings, all, but I’m particularly impressed by any verse (and versifier) that can make piss lyrical.
Thanks. I think I’ve been heavily influenced by Issa in that regard.
I really liked the first picture — it stunned me the first time I saw it.
Thanks. It took me four or five shots to get the right one. Fortunately, the goat wasn’t in a real hurry.