Haiku 43

Siren through the rain high-pitched howl and soft spatter gone, both, for morning

I kiss these red lips and put them back in their box wax plugs my nostrils

Teach an idiot to write haiku; do you still have an idiot?

A child’s persimmon half eaten, half-sticky, slid between two cushions

Huge green umbrella swallows his slim form whole at the Ave’s last pay phone

Splash–drench bicycle! Show some gratitude you’ve got one purpose on Earth

A fart lingers like a rule nobody follows passing the sniff test.

Runoff swarms the drain seven inches under; it gave up long ago

Heater’s one red light keeps me company bedside… Moloch brought to heel?

Inside-out mitten at the bus stop; wooly thumb like a turtle’s head

Two jays chase the train past the Franz freight yard, due south then bend to the sun