haiku and other animals

with the rain set in and flashes in the distance we all settle down to an old board game this is the one he always cheats at with that little smile on his face like he’s pulling one over on us and after a couple of drinks he’s the only one who really cares about it after all we’re just here for the conversation and these delightful appetizers reconstructed from an ancient Mesopotamian cookbook thought lost for at least a couple of millennia

but then the evening turns and we talk about the dark times when even finding a nickel on the sidewalk made your heart beat faster but of course we exaggerate all the old wounds for our audience even though they were all there and suffered as much or as little as we did you know you can’t really fool your friends like that then as fast as it came the storm passes though we had long ago stopped paying it any mind

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which way to start to get what I want instead of fiddling with knobs and buttons lost in mush and the aftermath of failed experiments but then without the experiments the birds don’t sing and we all sink sometime over the rooftops a siren or ice cream truck bringing something extra into the long and humid evening in which you reconstruct the crime scene for your dinner guests who have long since stopped being amused but somehow it escapes your mind

the right way to say certain things and you turn to the left for the light switch instead of to the right where it is and brush off the whole thing as a symptom of not enough sleep or coffee and meanwhile the worms are digging under our feet and so many skeletons slowly breaking down before the archaeologists can dig them up and brush them off you know some might be quite important to someone in a very different line of work but we can talk about that tomorrow with tea and lemon squares if the other appointment falls through you’ll call right

If I talked to people

It’s not all about haiku, is it? is a question I imagine people might ask if I started talking to them. The answer is no, not at all. There are quite a few other pies with which I’m making my fingers sticky. Hmmm. I’m going to put a stop to that metaphor. Anyway, I recently put out a book of old doodles from an old blog that hopefully are still (or were ever) slightly amusing. If you’d like to check it out, here’s the link.

If you’re interested, they mostly started out as a scribble with a pen or brush and then I tried to find the face in the scribble and write up a little story about the person. I don’t know if that helps, but there it is.

a fateful glitch in the holographic president’s ancient code

resident devil shrink pixel-small fly out with this breath

October my face falls like a leaf I bow to Orion

he promises black skies and a paw in every thorn

brick wrapped in wallpaper and his stupid toupee

rain through the night again the dream of chewing glass

she laughs as the pink purple flowers of wild mint might