Tuesday, September 30, 2014

Some more haikus


Its here, the hour you
know. The ghouls come out this time.
She will wait for you.


Let’s be cliché, lets
speak of hearts like red wine and
all the love wherein. 


To dip and to chose,
I really don’t like fondue.
The substance subsides. 


When will it all end;
the kooky jobs, smiling folks,
got to be a glitch. 


The conversation
relaxes through the night and
almost lands just right. 


What’s that you have in
your pocket? A needle, a
thimble and some dust.

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Catching up with a bunch of haikus, and one not-haiku.


There is a world of
space between the things we feel
and the words we write.



He went to the lake
to live deliberately, but
instead found a lake.



The only real place
where the act of reading can
actually kill you.



Everyone says they
want the best piece, but don’t want
the rest. What is wrong?



I hear the bulldozer getting louder as I swat the grass out of my ear,
scratching my leg with my other leg
and wonder if the world is about to end.
Is my best friend who is really an alien going to save me,
pull me up out of the grass and mud and tell me the end is neigh?
Would I care?
I feel the vibrations in the ground travel through my entire body and wish I hadn’t worn green.
Maybe I blend in too well with the grass,
maybe the bulldozer can’t see me,
Or maybe I’m doing the usual blending-into-the-world I do every day,
the sort of blending that gets your toes stepped on,
every coffee you’ve ever ordered,
and renders your voice inaudible over the screams of everyone’s egos,
everyone’s holy opinions.
The bulldozer is in my ear
and I stay still.


Saturday, September 20, 2014



Good old Teddy Bear
Roosevelt was quite a you-
know-what; scads there too.

Friday, September 19, 2014



To give
the perfect gift
is satisfying like
a poem when you think you've got
it right.



Gerard Depardieu

I wrote you a fan letter when I was in college, when I could not bear the thought of my delight going unnoticed.  When I thought that what I thought really mattered.  This was a time before things could trend so easily, before being online became its own life and before anyone could tell me it was a bad idea to write to you. You will find no celebrity photos on my walls today. Objects of desire slowly shift from celebrity to places missed and friend’s correspondences. But somewhere, I still have your signature. While the 14th bottle goes down smooth, the past creeps in. While getting ‘just a little pissed,’ a drawer is opened. While citizenship is ignored, renounced, a photo emerges. ‘What does it say?’ my past self asks her French-taking friends. ‘It says Love!’ My hair is emo-black and knees constantly bruised, I’m a semblance of normalcy while you, now, are an entirely different entity. Tonight I fear to fall asleep and wake to a world where bagpipes sound different, but I also fear another type of headline. I’m made fun of for caring, but without the little things I care about, I’m nothing- and I don’t think anyone’s life is a little thing. Some things fade away or fall or finish.  But certainly not everything. 

Wednesday, September 17, 2014



I never can be what I'm trying to be.
What I am is always an accident.
But this is life's hook: fills me with glee
and proves nothing rhymes with accident.

Tuesday, September 16, 2014




will we?
or won't we, ever.
what is this thing, regret?
the thing we fear, but questions crave.
ask me.

Monday, September 15, 2014



There are lions on the buildings,
there are lions through the trees.
There are lions in Mt Vernon-
am I the only one who sees?

Sunday, September 14, 2014



fingerprints of paint
sandwich bags, baby carrots
bowls of cheerios



The things we do each day are real enough;
(compare our days, write poems, make book clubs)
(complain and cry when things are getting tough)
It’s all the same, minus trips to our pubs.
My inbox never before felt such love
not even when I crossed the seas back then
but life half lived up in the Cloud above
can leave you wanting for touch, not a pen.
So let the Placemaking commence right now,
before nostalgia chokes us half to death,
and make our place, as long as you allow.
Let’s go there now, close eyes and take deep breath.
My uncle says that all we think is real,
all we imagine, love and need and feel.

Saturday, September 13, 2014



(my first Cinquain) 

a name I've always loved
as long as I've loved names.
This destined son or hero made-
I wait.

Thursday, September 11, 2014



Intensperate men and women too

          both miseraggle- now what to do?

The weight responsife leaves for all-

          now this is when crutakes will call. 

Please let this warnative take hold

          when carlways, everything is gold.

Wednesday, September 10, 2014



Like tents, pocket knives
and hot air balloons, hearts too
are collapsible.

Tuesday, September 9, 2014



quits often
is kind only in public
always has the last word
never answers the phone
cannot make the first move
won't let you pay them back
thinks of others as accessories of themselves
can't believe a compliment
pretends to not remember
unable to speak in public
doesn't read
can't take instruction
afraid to tell the truth
blindly follows beliefs
cannot be taught anything
always late when it matters
not on instagram- doesn't count
writes passive aggressively
never comes when invited
never listens to advice
never thinks of you
never thinks