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
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