Poetry

Haiku 29

Photo Credit: ohsoabnormal via Compfight CC-BY-NC-ND.
Photo Credit: ohsoabnormal via Compfight CC-BY-NC-ND.

She talks with a hand
over her mouth, assuming
we want to listen.

Sweet Christmas candle,
I’m too anxious about fire
to leave you burning.

Splatters of the rain
I imagine huge duck feet
slapping the brickwork.

The fear in my eyes
reflects only what I feel
coming off of you.

Scratched Lotto tickets
damp only slightly from piss
on the men’s room floor.

Sunshine on my should–
oops, that’s too many sylla-
can’t blame me for try–

Blunt:  “Are you kidding?”
curse from the bus turning right
onto Virginia

The dandelions
poking through library grass
are sometimes just that.

My nails, long enough
for cutting again–crap stuck
under sharp edges.

Two Ave Rat hipsters
barking at their blond(e) toddler
should I call police?

“Morning, Morning”–
I don’t even like the Fugs,
but they drown the street.

The piss and fish smells
mingle, invisible cloud
east side of Brooklyn.

The torn plastic bag
beside the television
has its place in things.

Cinco de Mayo
eleven days gone; streamers
still wave in a breeze.