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“Read my poem? Please?”
In real life I’d get blank stares.
Here, you’re back for more.
Mud has a smell that’s
like waking up to coffee.
You know you’re alive.
the constant dripping
nature’s tears of joy as she
sees her world reborn
The equinox means
equal night and day worldwide
yin and yang of light.
Days grow longer like
smiles that stretch wider as one
greets a long lost friend.
‘Beware!’ Caesar was
told. Like teens in horror films
he didn’t listen.
What’s that mean? That spring’s
a dominatrix, whipping
March ’til it submits?
Reclaiming the word,
she grabs the bitch by the horns
and makes us all proud.
for jem who says, “it’s your last lines that get me everytime.“
I’d like to think of
myself as the O. Henry
of the haiku form.
Could Cameron Diaz
maybe have done her hair? That
ponytail so wrong.
Secretive. Works for
the CIA. Won’t say where
it’s been for four years.
Like the extra hour
when we fall ahead, this one
day a trick in time.
Accomplished nothing
’til I took Motrin a whip
that tamed this tiger
J9 can’t sleep since
her mother died stays up and
writes heartache in tears.
Today J begins
flying not yet a driver
the sky’s the limit
We drive to where his
girlfriend’s dad says the haunted
tunnel is. We freak.
He drank to excess
so why am I the one with
the splitting headacne?
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