Poetry

Haiku 27

Photo Credit: ankker via Compfight CC-BY-NC-SA.
Photo Credit: ankker via Compfight CC-BY-NC-SA.

One lost DVD
stains all my gratitude
at the sun’s return.

“High above it all”
depends very much, of course,
upon your staircase.

I’ve never pondered
all those other mini-mart hands
depleting Pop-Tarts.

Waving flies aside
across Green Lake Way from Spud,
blighted wood bleachers.

Campus Parkway,
the grey crane casts no shadow
swinging, silent, south.

Heart-shaped slice of pear
on the bus stop’s yellow line;
no sign of the knife.

Whoever’s not home
presumably wants to buy
his tiny pot bags.

Standing, her shut eyes
twinned black lines in soft pencil
all the way downtown

If billions manage
their own deaths, then who am I
to gum up the works?

The Ting Tings’ new one
& lying atop blankets–
serenity, Ah!

He was old, crippled,
but a car cut his life short
anyway. (Lesson…?)

“Rectal bleeding”–well,
I had to fill out their form
in some fashion, eh?

Parka’d little girl
small Japanese umbrella
on her left shoulder.

Tedium, fatigue,
gifts from fate I must treasure
until my last day.

Gauzy white, cold blue,
the moon sets over Green Lake
six-twenty am.