Richard L. Matta
Concealed
He’s poised on a planter’s edge, bent slightly, like golden feather grass. From hat to jacket to shoes, his oversized clothes are gilded by paint. He stagger breathes, immune to slight touches and tease.
A spectator praises his discipline in stillness, says he heard the busker jumped from the corporate train, his life is now in freeze frame. Into an upturned hat, a clink of coins.
he stops
consumes a lily’s scent
in scorching heat
a garden turtle
retreats to the deep
About the Author
Richard L. Matta grew up in New York’s Hudson Valley, attended university, practiced forensic science, and now lives in San Diego. Some of his haiku, tanka and haibun are in Modern Haiku, Frogpond, Akitsu Quarterly, Bottle Rockets and Presence. His long-form poetry is found in various journals, including Gyroscope, Dewdrop, Ancients Path and Healing Muse.
Nice capture, Richard. I’ve seen several versions of this gilded character traveling through big cities: Los Angeles, London, Barcelona. . . never ceases to amaze and capture my imagination. Thanks for preserving this performance art image.