18 Haiku

Little birds pecking
at overhead power lines—
please be careful there!

A bare muddy hill

against a movie-screen sky—
morning after rain

Good-looking woman

surrounded by the results—
kids traipsing to school

*

A laughing seagull
swoops through a still street at dawn—
sky like flaming foil

Clouds like giant leaves,

like cyclones crowding the sky—
like continents!

As seen by Jack Kerouac:

A pregnant woman

rolls a baby carriage past
a cemetery

*

Little girl in pink

crosses the street in the dark—
off to school with mom

The slumbering line

of a dark-hilled horizon
under waking skies

Battling this aging

like a man shaking his fist
at a booming sea

*

She sleeps with crashing

battalions in her head!
Earphoned passenger

Gregory Corso, poet:

Once at summer camp

he kissed the moon glowing in
a barrel of rain

Old age—I see first

leaves fall, then more fall, and then
that’s all I see

*

Burst of orange sparks

flutters like glowing ashes
from a turning train

Silver airplane glints
over solemn blots of clouds—
chilly morning sky

Washing before bed—

and already preparing
tomorrow’s excuse!

*

A bark like a beep—

white puppy in a parked car
calling her keeper

Clouds of seagulls swarm

like…orphans from a beehive!
Dazzling morning sun

Thanks for the red wine,

my friends who just visited—
it tastes good alone



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Tricked By The Devil Again

It’s always been this way
You know you’re falling down again
It always feels the same
You know what’s coming round the bend

Tricked by the devil again

Tricked by the devil again
My god it happened again!
Tricked by the devil again

What’s so sweet and easy keeps you

Coming running back for more
And slow creeps the beast you meet
At last rapping at your door

Tricked by the devil again

Tricked by the devil again
My god it happened again!
Tricked by the devil again

(Going round and round you know it
 Going round and round you know it
 Going round and round you know it
 Going round and round)

Tricked by the devil again

Tricked by the devil again
My god it happened again!
Tricked by the devil again

Maybe you’ll escape
Into the mazes of your mind
But the crazy games you play
Make you afraid of what you’ll find

Tricked by the devil again

Tricked by the devil again
My god it happened again!
Tricked by the devil again



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Flashes 18

We are here
to get it right
one more time

Blues:

a flower
from fire

At night

before bed
forgive everyone

*

Made happy

by others’
happiness

The courage

of people—
amazing!

Yet another

distraction
from the facts

*

Karma:
bedrock
phenomenon

Technology:

tool or
appendage?

Ignorance:

great source
of confidence

*

“Angels under heaven
who don’t know
they’re angels”—Kerouac

All

in our own
fantasy worlds

Paying for all

you do and don’t:
proof of God—and the devil

*

The mean
business of
pleasure

We’re all

brilliant
when we’re young

Preparation’s

always
inadequate

*

Sky is

without
contrivance

 

 

 

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15 Hawaiian Haiku

“I’m in between jobs”—
said casually en route
to Honolulu


Mosquito, my blood
isn’t so sweet as you think!
Muggy afternoon

 

Song of the river

gurgling under choirs of birds—
what’s to desire now?

*

Before I was born
this was my face—giant sky
over the ocean

Two drifting clouds merge

with fiercely kissing faces
over the ocean

Bearded king’s cloud face

morphs into a crying clown’s
over the ocean

*

Tunnel Beach, Kauai—
a hen fights off a pesky
dog and wanders on

A plump seal sneezes

while she sunbathes on the shore—
people take pictures

She finally got

a shot of him standing up
on his surfboard!

*

Grey-bearded long-haired

man whooping and hollering
after his surfing

Can’t see the stars yet—

only rolling water and
twittering crickets

A sky so full of

stars it could be snowing them—
nightfall in Kauai

*

A fist-shaking raving

man becomes a waving friend—
clouds over the sea

A skull whispering

counsel to a doubtful man—
clouds over the sea

The whispering rain—

So what’ll we do today?
Just sit and listen?



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30 Haiku

A raven’s raspy
laughter overhead—I can’t
find him in the sky

Food court at lunch hour—

man shouting and gesturing
at a laptop screen

Big plump sun pushes

the roof of a hazy sky—
slow yawning morning

*

Glittering cars parked

in neat rows along the beach—
smell of grilled sausage

Still and silent by

the windy afternoon beach—
glittering parked cars

A sunlit garden—

the porch light’s night watch ending
with faint orange glow

*

Foggy morning beach—

briskly stretching woman with
pink fluorescent cap

An opossum’s corpse

between the steel railroad tracks—
tongue out, belly up

Telephone pole glows

like a cross against the clouds—
now’s the golden hour

*

White plastic bag

tumbling along the sidewalk
under buzzing wires

A huge obese man

trudges through the parking lot
aided by a cane

Hummingbird hovers

in a still space in the air—
blurred wings like a bee’s

*

The sandy sound of

bottles rubbing together
in my shopping bag

White brush-stroke clouds make

a nest for the crescent moon—
bright blue afternoon

Thanks to Paul Madonna:

Productivity—

is it right to deride trees
for rarely blooming?

*

Seagulls gang around

the edge of a steamy lake—
cars rolling to work

I bike by blank homes

on a quiet grey weekday—
brilliant crisp breeze

O poor Man!  Convinced

he can redeem himself in
a game of poker

*

Through the autumn leaves

the whispering watery sound
of a high noon breeze

Fixing her lashes

on a bumpy morning train—
tall tightrope walker!

Foggy muggy dawn—

taped to a telephone pole
a sign says FOUND CAT

*

I smell her before

I see her!  Perfumed woman
texting in the park

Big Mind rides this train

with all of our other minds—
smiling like a sun

Two flashing red lights

on the tops of two towers—
dusk grows into dawn

*

Ram’s head in the sky!

Or maybe it’s Medusa’s?
Big blot of dark clouds

Standing in the shade

in the park with my eyes closed—
the breeze on my face

The mirror reflects

its opposite—but I don’t
understand how

*

Huge outdoor concert—

the wind-shivering trees give
solace from the crowds

Huge outdoor concert—

the trees and the gulls accept
it all, unimpressed

The shuddering wings

and grunting calls of ravens
passing overhead



.

Just Like Everyone

“If the bluebird plays the eagle
He finds his song will turn to stone”—Deep Purple, “Dealer”

You’re grabbing at flashes

To ride a rocket to the sun
You think that you’re so special
You’re just like everyone

When you ride that lightning
You’re something that you’re not
When the bluebird plays the eagle
His song is lost and gone

At first it seems so easy

Just a dip in a drop
To set your mind on fire
Like the light of a god

The devil tricks and takes you

Robs you of your worth
What was your golden moment
Is now your hell on Earth



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19 Haiku

School children sitting
in order on the asphalt
before class begins

Clinging to a steep

roof under gusty grey skies—
the morning pigeons

These humming whirring

rushing sounds on the platform
of the train station

*

Bit of broken glass

glittering like a blue star
in the sandy soil

A sunny courtyard—

wind brisks my head and the hum
of machinery

The mind’s amazing—

but we treat it like a damned
amusement park

*

The salmon belly
of an ascending airplane—
flash of pink sunset

Orange nasturtium

in the deep shade of the pine
opens its trumpet

I watch a man watch

the sun sink into the sea—
a still silhouette

*

Noisy little birds
romp in the trees while the cat
sleeps on a cushion

Yellowed by lamplight—

big ghostly billows of fog
fly through the night street

Under the freeway

slumbering in the shadows—
some rusty parked cars

*

Vigilant pigeons

perched on a high concrete wall—
fans in the bleachers

Woman appraising

her fingernails as our train
rolls through morning fog

“That bag don’t pay for

that seat,” he said, moving his
so someone could sit

*

Another grey day
but across the bay—gleaming
city in the sun!

Along the train track

a squirrel scurries with a nut
as big as his head

Nice idea of

a problem—I’m not singing
enough these days man!

*

from a dream:

A cloud of birds lands
on the lawn and squalls with all
the squalling children



.

A Cloud Of Birds

Recently I dreamed that I was alone in a suburban neighborhood. Wide green lawns surrounded big white houses, but the trees on these lawns were bare and wintry-looking. Bright sun gleamed in a clear blue sky, and the air was crisp and breezeless. All of the natural elements in this place—the green grass, the bald trees, even the big blue sky—had a manicured banality about them, and the atmosphere of the neighborhood was permeated by the mood of a desert.

Gazing above the roofs of the houses into the blank blue sky, I heard in my head the chorus of “In God’s Country” by U2. I don’t think I’ve heard this song in more than twenty years, but I remember that when I did hear it, I was intrigued by the melancholy mood it made, especially during the refrain

Sleep comes like a drug
In God’s country.

I began having envious, self-pitying thoughts along the lines of “Man what a gift to write a song so engaging about something so terrible....Why don’t I write songs like that....” et cetera. Then, in the midst of my brooding, a huge flock of birds suddenly appeared in the sky and dove down toward the ground. Wow, I thought, this is amazing! This is what you should concentrate on instead of all that other crap!

The birds landed on a lawn in front of one of the big houses and strutted around squalling on the green grass. For the first time I noticed three small children, the oldest of whom may have been seven years old at most, who had been playing on the lawn where the birds had just landed. They were squalling with excitement at the sudden presence of all these squalling birds.

I too was filled with excitement, and beholding these children in their knit caps and winter coats romping and shouting with all these rowdy indescribable birds, I felt compelled to compose a haiku in an attempt to honor this extraordinary ordinary moment.

In my mind I fitted words to the scene that I was steeped in, letting the pulse of the mood I was feeling guide my choices, so that it felt like I was tracing the poem, rather than contriving it. I remember feeling pleased at how easily the words that occurred to me were nestling into the 5-7-5 syllabic scheme of the haiku form. Then I woke up. And wrote down what I remembered.

A cloud of birds lands

on the lawn and squalls with all
the squalling children



.

Nothing's Missing

Someone’s gone too far
That’s alright with me
All roads are hard
Not so unique

Everybody knows

Everybody sees
Everybody’s trouble
Is everybody’s

Like water twisting

Like summer sun
There’s nothing missing
There’s nothing done

Shadows in the valley

Shapes in the trees
Flashes in the alley
Voices in a dream

Just bless this essence

Just bless this scene
Forget the message
And you will see

Like water twisting

Like summer sun
There’s nothing missing
There’s nothing done

Gonna ride the rise

Gonna climb the tide
Gonna see the single
Star in every eye

Like water twisting

Like summer sun
There’s nothing missing
There’s nothing done



.

19 Haiku

Breeze through the plaza
teeming with people at lunch time—
the smell of fried food

Morning train station—

uniformed young man strides by
smiling, with a gun

A solid grey day—

people so slow and sleepy
in the calm still air

*

Cracking explosion

rips through the packed evening train—
old man dropped his cane

Lying under sky,

my breath rising and falling,
cars breezing by

I do some yoga

before the party—and now
I don’t want to go!

*

Drunk man savoring
his cigarette on a cold
stone bench at dusk

Alone on the beach—

friend at the end of the world
calling out my name

A beautiful mood—

you don’t see it go, you just
recognize it’s gone

*

Caterpillar train
crawling out of its tunnel—
sleepy grey morning

Whispering rhythm

from some earphones on the train—
sleepy grey morning

A parade of garbage
sliding along the asphalt—
cloudy morning breeze


 *

Cotton fiber clouds
lacing a blue summer sky—
so many faces!

On the phone he sounds

like a little guy who squints
upward when he talks

Everywhere I go

I hear a chirping cricket—
it’s my belt buckle!

*

Honking geese and whoosh
of a train by the platform—
heading home from work

Black bird on a post—

doesn’t budge when people pass
on the path at dusk

Little dragonfly

buzzing between green branches—
slow-falling feather

*

A green baseball field
speckled with stars of seagulls—
misty morning calm



.

Reminder

Even in the suburbs
of capitalized America
with its franchise monotonies
strewing these lands
with the debris
of exploded televisions
yes even here
they've still got it
staring through a desert
of loveless business
unblinking
invisible
without thought
without outcry
the Great Cosmic Eye
gazing through the eyes
of all the lonesome folk



.

Flashes 17

The sky
is full
of ghosts

Life, he said,

is terrible—I eat
the same thing every day!

A man

through whom
music flows

*

Fat

obscures
you

The world is

like a movie
of life

The world’s
a lonely
crock of shit


*

He needs

more time
in the temple

Self-loathing

is still
ego

Man
blues
soothes!

*

It’s so sad

but you
don’t have to be

These

lusts
pass

Defining things

by what
they are not

*

An oddball
like every
one else

Why

trouble your mind
with that crap?

The Meaning Of Life:

cultivate consciousness
and live accordingly

*

The air

is full
of souls



.

21 Haiku

A bearded cloud man
—his hat like a roof or road—
laughing in the sky

An orange lozenge

swallowed by the sea again—
slow summer sunset

Bright fang of a moon

over a vanishing shore—
and now it’s night

*

A tree’s red tassels
against a grey summer sky—
home to many birds

An ordinary fool

with a pocket-watch heart—
napping sick at noon

Evening train—somber

woman exits with her son
who has the same face

*

Crescent moon, gull, plane—
all sharing the same blue sky!
Summer afternoon

Wind-blown clouds race past

a phantom sliver of moon—
last light in the west

Moon dims and brightens

as veils of clouds wander by
in mid-summer dusk

*

Two girls on the train
sit opposite each other
putting on make-up

Evening train—a man

standing in a wild plaid shirt
smiling to himself

Alone on the train—

is everyone out drinking?
Briefcase and white shirt

*

Sunny afternoon—

flitting white butterfly makes
the garden greener

A swirling white pair

of butterflies overhead—
mating ritual?

A butterfly lands

on a sunny cobblestone—
a bird’s lazy chirping

*

A shy smiling girl

sits alone on the church steps—
the six o’clock bells

Face in the mirror

just before bedtime—I smear
cold cream on crow’s feet

Want to diddlydoo

but the cat’s between my legs—
what’s more delightful?

*

Morning train station—

a fast-passing panoply
clutching coffee cups

Elevated train

speeding through the mist above
broccoli tree tops

Hissing hydraulics
of the train in the station—
waiting to move on

.

Leave Here Running

Got crocked in the hotel bar
Feeling like I lost my star
A man can fall so far
Crocked in the hotel bar

Earlier I felt so good
Like I finally understood
Now I’m drowning in a mood—like I’ve been
Stranded on the moon

I thought I had come
To a pause in the war
But here I am again I’m feeling
Lost in the storm—I’ve got to
Leave here running but I
Don’t know where to go

I gotta get out of this place
I’m staring at the devil’s face!
He’s laughing at my disgrace—the whole human
Race has the devil’s face!

Why must I wander?
What am I stumbling under?
I think I’m into something that could make a fellow
Come undone—I hope I’m wrong!

Quivering meat
Out in the street
There’s a hunger gnawing all
The people I see—I’ve got to
Leave here running ‘cause
A man has got to be

(All my life I’ve been

Lost and wondering
I’ll my life I’ve been
Running somewhere
But I am always here)

A branch of lightning gleams

Feels like it’s reaching me
Doesn’t need to be believed
A branch of lightning gleams

A flash in the night

A flash in my mind
I’m looking for a light while I’m
Groping blind—I’ve got to
Leave here running but I
Don’t know what I’ll find

Might lose my mind!



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