Monday, June 1, 2015

My Haiku

because you all seem to want me to write one. heartless heartless mob.

If a haiku came to me,
the safe lady wearing waves of soft sweaters
and funky book-lady glasses,

I would place it tenderly in traffic
in front of a steamroller.
My hateful heart would expand like an old furnace
and I would say, "Die, you horrid little thing.
Become one with everything, the pavement in particular."

Having murdered the haiku, I would sleep better,
though the cherry blossoms around my bed would turn brown,
then black, with bitterness.
I would dream there in the soot, beneath the stacks my own inferno.
Eat your hearts out, monks.

Here is the woman I secretly burn for, packing her things
chipper as a bluebird,
hugging me one-handed, a book of haiku in the other.
So long, she says, ticket in hand.
Minneapolis might as well be the moon; I hope it snows all summer.

moonlight on water
blackbird on cherry blossoms
soft fruit in stone bowl

If a haiku came to me,
I would tan its little hide, give its dinner to the dog,
and then later, turn the key in the lock to its solitary cell,
bringing the best of all that I have managed to save,
saying I'm sorry, I'm sorry,
I know just how you feel.



hedgewitch said...

I started out laughing, but ended up in quite a different state. This twist on the knife-hilt of unattainable desire seems indeed to come from a place where it snows all summer. And there on the pavement, in the cell, wherever the haiku dies, I see it always remains itself, and that it has plenty of company.

TexWisGirl said...

you make me laugh. this one i could understand. when you go high-brow, you're way out of my realm of understanding. :)

Outlawyer said...

Oh dear--agree with Hedge--a very poignant poem by the end--the haiku that you have written especially so as it sums it all up, the soft fruit in the stone bowl and the blackbird in the cherry blossoms--the underside of all that contemplation--

one of my favorites of yours; even had I not known of your affection for those little poems. k.

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Ha! I knew it! Deep down, you're a sentimentalist, just like the rest of us. Ultimately, you save this thing you purport to hate. A heart such as yours, is impossible to hide. Love this, Mosk

... unless, of course, I misunderstood it. Then, all bets are off.

Sioux said...

What a lovely haiku… from someone who hates haiku.

Anonymous said...

Funny how you can hate something/someone with such intense passion, yet love it/him/her deeply, all the same.

Anonymous said...

P.S. I think haiku suits you quite well. ~Whether you like it or not.

Rose Ketring said...

What a marvelous treat :D I've got your back if any haiku come your way..

Sherry Blue Sky said...

I thought that I would never see
a haiku coming out of thee.

I started off grinning, but right around the fruit in the stone bowl and the haiku on the pavement, my heart did a little twist and I thought - oh yes, there it is again, the longing that hearts like yours and mine know only too well. Beautifully done.

Cloudia said...

Pleased my sadistic side

( '>

ALOHA from Honolulu,

grapeling said...

you're just good at everything pen related. even hai(te)ku. ~

Kim Nelson said...

I'll bet haikus will keep their distance!

Lolamouse said...

You had me fooled with the title. You wrote much more than a haiku. This was a poignant take on love and desire, loss and anger. Beautiful, as always.

Daryl said...

i'm not very poetic
i tend to blather prose
i was horrible at math
i do not get the whole idea of haiku
so i too would be mean to a haiku
i ever could figure it out

Lynn said...

This is hilarious - an anti-Haiku poem!

Mama Zen said...

More! More!

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

These are my favourite lines:
and I would say, "Die, you horrid little thing.
Become one with everything, the pavement in particular."

No, actually these are my favourite lines:
moonlight on water
blackbird on cherry blossoms
soft fruit in stone bowl

Masterly, either way.