Most read ▸
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!