missing flip-flop sits beside the curb miles from a man askew
Separation [Haiku]
Reply
Tag Archives: poem
Mystery Print Haiku
Muddy Water Tanka
pristine flower blooms in muddy water; its fragrance drowns out the scent of rot until it feeds the mud
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Three Takes on a Lotus Haiku
I lotus viewing: still blossom, changing light; countless sights
II a still lotus, a static eye, and shifting light; boundless hues
III view one lotus until the changing light makes a new bloom
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
POEM: Ghosts in the Darkness
I have walked in deep, dark places, and crawled through darker, still -- gas-lit slums long after the dusk, where lamplight failed to spill. So surprised by fleeting faces that faded in and out -- like visions from the sleep-drift, they never loiter about. They come, they see, and then they pass -- these alien observers. They pass with just a fleeting glance, like someone else's server. They care not what you think you need, or who you think you are. You're just an automaton shopper within the grand bazaar.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
POEM: A World of Loathing
a cat abhors a vacuum vacuums abhor tangled hair tangled hair abhors a hairbrush hairbrushes abhor Victorian Spanking Fetishists Victorian Spanking Fetishists abhor Victorian prudism prudism abhors immodesty immodesty abhors modesty modesty abhors whores whores abhor cheapskates cheapskates abhor expenses expenses abhor ledgers ledgers abhor ink pens ink pens abhor writers writers abhor synonyms synonyms abhor antonyms antonyms abhor continuums and so on... it's true that Eddie Rabbitt loves a rainy night, but who loves Eddie Rabbitt? [the Coalition for Names with Double-Letters, that's who!]
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
Montreal Limerick
There was a hungry man from Montreal who ate Poutine 'til he could only crawl the snack in question gave him indigestion, and sealed his colon like a stonewall.
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
POEM: Hypnagogic Voices
I hear voices -- a cold burble of voices -- too dim and distant to extract meaning, too inexplicable not to inject a rationale, or a slate of reasons: -madness -conspiracy -expectation -the impulse toward void filling minds despise quiet, filling it with puzzling prattle, and making any hash of sound into cryptic natter, until sleep descends
Share on Facebook, Twitter, Email, etc.
POEM: The Mind of Urban Cattle
What's a city through the eyes of a mid-city cow? Growing up on a farm, I can't say I ever questioned how a cow perceived the pasture -- vast tracts of green, green grass seemed like a natural habitat, though I recognize that a philosophical cow might see nothing natural in its circumstance, either way. What of the fast moving vehicles? the horns? the best grass fenced off? the rush of humanity? the bright, white lights? the stink of human life? Can they tune it all out as well as they seem to? Zen mind / cow mind? I wonder?
