Modern-Day Haiku
Man watches
dog shit
then removes
plastic bag &
small scoop from
coat pocket.
Category Archives: poems & short jabs
modern-day haiku
Filed under poems & short jabs
little buckaroo disappears in a heartbeat
Little Buckaroo Disappears in a Heartbeat
To disappear in a heartbeat. I did that once, and I’ve not been the same since.
A shrink told me that I only imagined it, but she was young and I had her half naked on her couch, so she wasn’t thinking clearly.
“It never happened, Little Buckaroo,” she whispered, “that strange journey into a heartbeat.”
That’s what she called me when she was aroused, Little Buckaroo.
“You’re dreaming options,” she moaned. “No good can come from looking for Shangri-La in a heartbeat.
“Oh!” she said. “Oh! Touch me there! Again!”
And I did. I touched her there I touched her here I touched her everywhere, and I took her to Shangri-La.
Once you disappear in a heartbeat, women fall from the night sky like lost stars.
Filed under poems & short jabs
memory
Memory
He was going to look up memory
in six different languages.
He was going to puddle hop on jet liners
from country to country
and find the
best dictionaries they had.
He made a list of the countries
to put in his fire-proof safe
with his other lists.
He gave the tumblers a spin
and then cursed as the combination
went into meltdown.
Now he needed a locksmith.
He whipped out the phone book
and thumbed thru
the yellow pages.
He stopped at hair stylists
and ran his fingers through his hair.
Was this what he needed?
He went out on the porch
and rolled a near-perfect cigarette.
It was autumn.
He had a son somewhere,
but he wasn’t sure how old he was.
40? 45?
Maybe it wasn’t a son,
maybe it was a daughter.
Vaguely it crossed his mind
that he might need help,
but the moment passed.
He fixed on a single leaf
spinning to the ground
and followed it all the way down.
Filed under poems & short jabs
mental patient
Mental Patient
Words failed him completely.
They melted down en route from his brain
to his tongue and glottis
like wax figurines.
The melted words flowed
back into his brain like hot lava.
The villagers abandoned their huts
and ran into the ocean.
They swam as far as the barrier reef
and then dog paddled in circles.
The lava cut a swath into his brain
consuming all in its path.
It hissed into the ocean
and went rigid with shock.
It configured into grotesque
statues of basalt.
They doubled his sedation,
but still he rocked and moaned,
his knees pulled up tight into his chest.
They tried to undo the lock of his fingers,
but even the strongest orderly
couldn’t do it.
They put him out with a special shot,
but his fingers remained locked.
He had become the firestorm in his brain.
He had turned into basalt.
Small golden butterflies,
the essence of what he had been struggling to say,
pressed between his parted lips
and fluttered to the ceiling.
The doctors and nurses frowned at the butterflies,
and the black orderlies slipped out of the room.
That night in their favorite honky-tonk
they would drink straight shots of Jim Beam
and listen to the Blues
with new intensity.
Filed under poems & short jabs
making the masses happy
Making the Masses Happy
It doesn’t take
much to
make the
masses happy.
Paint a
mustache
on the
Mona Lisa
& they
roll in
the aisles.
Filed under poems & short jabs
