Friday haiku!
the green tea is hot
and only slightly bitter
outside the wind blows
floating and leaving no trace
Friday haiku!
the green tea is hot
and only slightly bitter
outside the wind blows
my fist time in san francisco alone
at night I went for a walk
leaving the comfort of my hotel
i don’t remember
what street i had turned
but there were bars
and people spilling out onto the street
and in the gutter
a broken bottle of liquor
so many men and women on the street
so cold
i was bundled up
against the cold
and a man approached me
asking for money
and i told him no
i had told myself when i left the hotel
that i wasn’t going to give anyone money
on the street
i didn’t even speak to him when he asked
cheerfully
for some change or a buck
just shook my head and kept my head down
and kept moving
and kept my wallet in my pocket
along with my freezing hands
an old woman
who looked like she could have been eighty
wearing a knit cap
asked me as well
and with far fewer teeth
for anything i could spare
“please,” she said, “please”
and i remembered my grandmother
who had wasted away in a nursing home bed
i gave her five dollars
and didn’t say anything to her either
even after she said “god bless you”
i had to walk past the man who had asked
for money before
he laughed at me and said
“you’ll give her money, but not me”
but i kept my head down
but i kept moving
and when i got back to the hotel
the bed was shit
and i had a hard time falling asleep by myself
and i was still better off than every person
i had seen that night
just not better
the throbbing pulse in your throat
the great river of heat coursing through you
the swelling of your chest
the filling lungs
the punctuated catching of breath
the mouth that barely opens
the lower lip caught between teeth
the eyes that close tight
the back that arches
the hands raking through my hair
and the release of it all
the ridge of your hip
raises the white skin
just below your stomach
i trace it with a single finger
you push my hand away
because it tickles
where you walk
stones split open
underfoot
and voices of fire
whisper the secrets
of worlds below
where you tarry
lavender springs from the earth
and the air fills with
the conversation of bees
and the whispers of hummingbirds
where you sleep
the stars weep with bitterness
envious of the earth
upon which you lay your head
and the darkness
seeks to cover you
like a mantle
the wind blew
and the trees shushed the twittering birds
in their branches
–that which slumbers must
forever dream beneath the loam–
and the birds which sang before
sang no more
and their tongues shriveled in their mouths
and their feathers became hard like scales
and they fell
flightless to the ground
and though they made not a sound
something stirred
from sleep
let’s draw a map on your skin
whipped cream for snow
chocolate sauce for roads
blue icing for rivers
fresh spring leaves from trees for the landscape
rose petals for every point of interest
let’s study the map
and explore the territory
It’s Friday. And that means a haiku-ish poem.
failing hard drive
clicks like a trapped insect
computer bug!
the scent of her lotion
lingered on my coat
but
not long enough
after the job went
the apartment was next
and we were praying that
the security deposit would
come back to us
because we were out of money
you stayed at the new place
the cheaper place
with the loud, scary neighbors
and the kids
and warned them not to run across the floor
because we were now upstairs
and we were better than
every upstairs tenant
we ever lived beneath
and i stay at the old place
doing a last cleanup
feeling sick with exhaustion and failure
and i bought two off-brand mountain dew sodas
from a vending machine
in front of our old albertsons
and drank them both so fast
my stomach cramped
and i couldn’t catch my breath
while i dripped with sweat
and fought back tears
because it was my fault we had to leave.