defining the form
i have all the lyrics to my favorite miles davis songs. i made them up of course. and i forget them and put on the music again (and again). reinventing them. and so it goes. each moment moves from one old joke to another. bad jokes. the stuff of life they are.
did this haiku become
a senryu for you
when i as a young man i had an old car and drove crazily through the streets of milwaukee wisconsin. a friend put a bumper sticker on my car that read DON’T MISTAKE ME FOR SOMEONE WHO CARES. at first i was offended but then i realized he was only warning the other folks on the road to stay out of my way. that seemed very humane. so i left it on.
chewing gum comics
that brings us together
ginsberg/burroughs and the facebook algorithm
two old beats smoking cigarettes eating watermelon and talking about philosophy and societal ills. i wonder if they had a phone that could do a live video if they would have made more sense. nope i figure. they made all the sense i needed then or now. car salesman could not have ‘sold’ me quicker than they did with their words. when you become just a little open to openness you are like that watermelon on their table. eatable but at the same time capable of spreading the seeds of a peculier religion. like a perverse johnny appleseed apostle.
the heat of words
at a book burning
just dots to my eyes
the universe is in perpetual perfection. humans have difficulty grasping this fact. and yet it is easy to see if you just stop looking.
a startled crow
blocks my view
counting stars in the milky way
the places i go in my mind long hard winter
straight no chaser
i dont drink much. but when i do i drink sixteen year aged scotch. made in islay in scotland (obviously). it smells like peat moss. that might be because the water they use in the distillation process in islay is from a peat bog. ok. it ‘is’ why it smells like peat. anyway the only way to drink scotch is ‘neat’. if you spend that kind of money for the good stuff then pouring it over ice or diluting it with soda just seems outright dumb to me. life is best straight up not watered down and good scotch is just part of being alive for me.
the dizzying way
a cherry blossom flutters
its not too far to never never land
time moves on without me. i am stuck in memories and it seems just perfect to me. the present moment holds the entire past in its hands. cupped and filled to overflowing my youth just runs down the drain. all of my childhood was spent daydreaming. now that i think about it all of my adulthood too.
star trek episodes
the pointed ears on my cat