Haiku 48

Image by Andrew Hamlin.

Image by Andrew Hamlin.


The house, long burned down
leaving mid-air memories
of our midnight rut

If you get this note
after the milkman walks on
please come back to bed

I ducked under
in time to watch the taillights
on the submarine

My ambitions
not quite as to dried curly turds
beneath the mailbox

Wide concrete steps, cracked
where the jeeps drove down them
the last war

I sat in this chair
and communed with the sunlight
(she is still dead)

All we ever do
is keep moving down the line
until it’s over

Leaving the light on–
Damn it, damn it all to hell!
It’s one fucking light!

At twilight, a chime
first ice cream truck of summer
(I’m too thrilled to look!)

We pulled the plug
on any notion of God
get out the flashlights

Tears on my temples
a cold breeze brushes them back…
summer clouds scud west

I’ve been chasing
myself in curlicues…
dizzying dead end

The impermanence
(One man with a gun, then more)
of this garden wall!

The blind man shuffles west
around the telephone pole
night horns fade

My bedroom window
so much bigger than the moon…
thankfully no bars

Freighter close to shore
horizontal skyscraper
sliding, too quiet