Three Isolation Poems by Joe Dimon

Hut in the Rain


There is silence

As the raindrops linger on the branch

And though it’s just a hut in the morning

Inside, it's the glory of music

As a trickster makes coins

From tests to his will




Bougainvillea


I cannot discern another way through

I listen for the ships, only, no news

Messengers left the coast, beard’s grown by leagues

Sparrows sing of letters, midnight thorns me

Barefoot, I am sea-drenched and smell of shells

But, near the bougainvillea, I sit




Vines That Constrain


For Man, a new occupation is the end of loneliness

Just as hailstones beat away winter at the dawn of spring

Purpose is a fragrance that blossoms at all hours

Glinting its teeth at the vines that constrain

It echoes down new pathways as a ray of sunlight

And makes summer of Man’s work