Poetry

Haiku 50





A spackled skull,

one hand dabs art over death

tacky paint still drying


Snowdrifts of if...if...

then turn on your wipers

to clear your windshield


Such steeped sadness for

Robert E. Howard, tonight

dread against my bones


He talks to himself

drooping and screeching voices

audience long lost


That mirror, missing

from above the urinal

summer-stinky heat


Cockroach, underside

of the end table lamp shade

Fourth of July


Krishnas clang outside

burned meatballs under noodles

Evening caesura


She's grown complacent

in the years since I read her

"Dear John" in my kitchen


Skinny blue neon

from the bail bondsman's window

lost in the sunburst


O Death so cool!

Until he pressed but did not

rend, with his razor


I don't tell him

I walk now with the Godless...

leaves stay on the tree


The soldier chokes

face down in a mud puddle

denied any sky


Ox, ready to drop

in slurry snow, looks back

on the brown mountain


Where do we all stand

[Refractions and Distractions]

Oh (no) (not) again