I watch him fall to the floor
see the light overtake his face
when it fades, he is born again
3 December 2013
Oak Street
/ / /
This is the kind of poem you write after finally finishing the William Hartnell era of Doctor Who.
Leave a CommentCategory: Haiku
I awoke beside an open notebook
while the radiator gurgled away
the sharp bite of a December night
2 December 2013
Oak Street
the streets are full of shouting
in the southern college town
where the last second counted
30 November 2013
Oak Street
[Photo: Melissa Humble, Auburn University Photo Services]
Leave a Commentyou can kick only so many people
off your remote desert island
before you wake up under a palm tree alone
28 November 2013
Oak Street
the shrill screaming of contestants
on The Price Is Right
as they are fed into the wood chipper
27 November 2013
Oak Street
wee hours, awakening
from a doze to frosted windows
the neighborhood silent, asleep
24 November 2013
Oak Street
wee hours, awakening
from a doze to frosted windows
the neighborhood silent, asleep
23 November 2013
Oak Street
burning eyes half-closed, head full of cotton
time to get under the covers
await the cold November morning
21 November 2013
Oak Street
more birds than I’ve ever seen at once
flying in a great horde above Atherton Street
off to conquer a warmer kingdom
18 November 2013
Oak Street
it’s unusually warm for November
tonight I’ll be in Brooklyn again
ready to say my goodbyes
16 November 2013
Oak Street
the sound of a big truck
or a hard, cold November wind
pushes me deeper under the blanket
12 November 2013
Oak Street
it wasn’t until spilling
half the miso soup from the pot
that I remembered I own a ladle
10 November 2013
Oak Street
the first autumn snow
fell wet and heavy today
it’s already gone
24 October 2013
Oak Street
a rose by any other name
shield bug on the door
seeks shelter from the autumn chill
she and her scent aren’t welcome
18 October 2013
Oak Street
car dealership haibun
Three men in white shirts are moving back and forth in front of the tall windows. The sun is streaming into the waiting room but they’re not concerned about the weather. They’re looking out into the lot, straining to see a head of hair or a hat bobbing between any two cars. The telltale signs of a customer. You’d think the lot would be packed on this gorgeous fall day, but those who can find a job are at work and the rest can’t afford a car. The tiny trees wave in a lackluster breeze, headstones placed in memory of what once must have been a forest. The men in white shirts keep watch.
waiting room man
eats crackers in monk’s hat
sun warming his neck
*
old man stares raptly
at television hunting program
waits to hear his name
*
magazine on her lap
she looks at me when I speak
but doesn’t respond
15 October 2013
State College, PA