Haiku 57

He parts
the dish towel…
(baby doesn’t move)

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One bee buzzes
through lotus yellow…
summer chill

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Snake slips beak…
the crane returns
to the nest

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Modelo bottle,
flowers it once held…
dry papyrus

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Backsplash,
muddy water to wheel well…
marbled clouds

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To an era,
scrubbing our galaxy out
from the inside

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She feeds the plants…
gentle splashes
from her water bowl

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The yin-yang,
two ghosts–
one hole punch each

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Each soul
one flashing square, then not
on the disco ball

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Reading Handke;
she won’t return my hello…
split cosmos

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The toilet
burbles when it cares to
(near midnight)

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Morning heat…
a feather’s shadow
but no bird

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Lemon soda,
raspberry yogurt…
my mind, quiet

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Torn sunflower,
the guitar has no strings…
summer grey

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One bright orange
candy wrapper, ripped…
noon sidewalk

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Genuine hero
smokes alone by the fire plug…
brokedown movie house

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I’m losing again…
paperbacks, burst bananas
for the plastic bin

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My right hand
across my blanket,
to the exclusion

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The moon and me
getting reacquainted,
5 am

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tanka:

I’ve lived this life
in red candy wrappers,
blue push-ups…
that “vanilla sky”
was really yogurt

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Half-remembered,
leaving me to ponder
which half

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Arms wide; body
borne into the crucifix…
borne into the dove

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This toilet,
still running…
we’re roommates now

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Those skinny slats…
risking my bulk
each evening

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tanka

Dead Hemingway,
on TV naturally…
feared his soul
should love its freedom
too much in the dark

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Another month…
four fingers of light, cracked
by shadows

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We mark them in black,
like teeth from a mouth–
those who have not loved

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Between cigarettes
he coughs with a seal’s bark
two blocks from sunset

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Election eve
headlights slide like oil drops
down the trolley lines

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