Monthly Archives: May 2012

Raining Cats and Haiku

The future is now

just a few minutes later

then it’s now again.


Better not sleep in

if you are a mosquito

one day is one life.


Rain ruins picnics

there’s no rain above the clouds

so plan picnics there.


Puddles, liquid clouds

how the air can bleed away

into city veins.


One man`s setting sun

is another man`s sunrise

all under one sky.


Bases Are Empty, The Batter Is Loaded

I went shopping at the inspiration store

but it was closed.

So I went to the beer store and wrote this instead

now I’m surrounded by empties

but I’m good and loaded

trading Tuesday night for Wednesday morning

this goes out to those who mine their minds for one more word

one more word to turn their entire creative forces into an army

to invade grey matter

and make it matter on the page

like a fielder coming out of left field charging hard

to make a shoe string catch to the save the game

only to see the ball drop in front of their glove

and roll all the way to the warning track

and there’s no sense looking back

the game is lost

so he runs in to the dugout

with the faith he’ll get em tomorrow.

What I Wrote After My Elementary School Reunion

My elementary school is a penal colony called Australia

though it’s located in the center of Canada

but like England shipped their worst convicts to build Sydney

my grade three memories are built on the bruises of brutes and bullies

today I hear Sydney’s a really nice city

and the people are really friendly

proving rehabilitation is possible after all

just give it a few hundred years

or now I see

even twenty-five years can turn tragedy to comedy

just get whacked on your funny bone repeatedly

(funnier than it sounds now)

just give it a quarter century

get together with the people who gave you cuts

and laugh at the scars.

Assassinating Stars

We’re assassinating the stars with our eyes

these celestial bodies are disintegrating into ashes

as seven billion sets of eyes draw awe from them

like if you take my photo you steal my soul

simply by seeing we are absorbing

we are our environment

externally, internally

we see the world that surrounds us

in our mind’s eye

if we close our eyes

we can still see

if we close our minds

we can see nothing

even with eyes open wide

but, what can we do to save the stars?

Should we agree to never look at them again?

Let all the space travel

all doodling in constellations

be done in the frontier of our minds

where we can have breakfast on Mars, lunch in a Starbucks in Uranus and supper in the fourth dimension

and be back in time to sleep cozy in our beds

eyes shut tight

below the moon’s glow

with the stars safe within us.

Hide and Seek Through Corn Fields

Flying through corn fields

on six year old legs

playing hide and seek

and being on the side of hide

only ten seconds ahead of the one who seeks

zig zagging through the stalks of corn

running as fast as a six year old can

cause the boy hated having to look for people

he didn’t mind having to hide

he just hated the seek part of hide and go seek

there’s far more fear in chasing people than being chased

no, it wasn’t the fear, it was the lack of fear, the dullness

that wore into his legs and knees

that slowed him down

that took away the thrill of the chase

when chasing not being chased

the heart rate goes down cause there’s less stress

cause you are It

you are what is feared

you are It

you are Fear itself

yet, you don’t want to be Fear or feared, you want to fear

cause it’s more fun to run from fear than to be feared

and turns out this kid likes fear

or, at least what fear does to his nervous system

carrying the boy’s stumpy little legs through the farmer’s field

in a panic not to get caught

cause it’s not the thought of getting caught that keeps him running

it’s what comes next in the game.

Cutting Through Time With A Diamond Drill

Doing backstrokes down streams through the sewers of memory

I see emeralds, rubies and diamonds I used to see as garbage

along the banks of the Ganges

through the smoky veil between life, death and burning flesh

I wonder how I could have thrown away such gem stones

how did I ever see them as mud?

These clumps of carbon

have hardened to diamonds

it only took three billion years

but we got there eventually

where this shrapnel of stars

became your wedding ring.

A Light Lunch of Haiku

The surf weds the sand

they love, then withdraw

wet with memory.


Your once bright spirit

I drink like fire water

from an empty glass.


Light gives in to night

they make love in the sunset

then the birth of stars.


The night is alight

to the tune of fireworks

dancing cha cha cha.


How brave is first light

to break through the night’s fortress

and set free the dawn.


Red, Yellow, Blue

How red, yellow and blue can make anything and everything

they can make plaid, even rainbows

all except black

how the absence of color makes black

how every atheist feels God just enough to declare that he doesn’t feel God

how every painting every painted

came from the inner white space

and look the same from outer space.

Pen v Sword

The Writer squared off with The Swordsman

The Writer came armed with a pen

The Swordsman of course had his sword

“The pen is mightier than the sword!” The Writer decreed and wrote a poem about it.

The Swordsman laughed and cut off The Writer’s head

and picked up the pen

crossed out the poem

and wrote out his grocery list

but what The Swordsman didn’t know was that The Writer

had written this very thing one day before

and this very thing would last in poetry textbooks for more than two hundred years

while the skills and kills of The Swordsman would decay to Nirvana

as the souls would come back down and try again

a few good Swordsmen came back as bad Writers

a few bad Writers came back as good Swordsmen.

English Beer Goggles and Haiku’s Fourth Primary Color

A toast to English

the only language I know

so scandalously.


We’re drunk on language

English beer goggles: great, great

everything is great.


It’s cool to be sick

today you want to be sick

Sick is the new well.


We’ve lost words’ meanings

if this was truly awesome

it’d part the Red Sea.


Crazy is when you

ask mimes to shut the hell up

they’re hurting your ears.


Language limits art

the writer confessed to his



I paint what I see

it’s death by paint by numbers

tyranny of sight.


Gas rainbows flowing

in gutter puddles glowing

destructive beauty.


Primary colors

transmogrify this science

make paper rainbows.


Haiku puddles frame

the mathematics of rainbows

into a rain drop.