Trail MixImagine, the plane has gone down and we're lost in the desert. There's no food except for the dead passengers and a container of trail mix. The passengers soiled themselves during the crash, leaving them inedible and shitty. We try to make our way back to civilization, and along the way we try to ration the trail mix. You wake up the next morning to find only peanuts left. "What the fuck, Brad," you say to me, who is Brad. There's remnants of what were once melting M&M's and chocolate chips smudged around my mouth. "I'm sorry," I manage to mutter through the tears as my addiction becomes apparent. They drop on the ground and sizzle away in the sun's heat, like a chicken named "Hope" in a frying pan. As we continue our journey, you dig through the desolation that is peanuts, expecting only disappointment, but alas! You find a pair of raisins, stuck together, like two chickens named "Hope" in a frying pan. You raise them to your cracking lips, and eat them, savoring their sweet fl
Steak SandwichA taste of red leaps and bounds all over the place, flashes of gold splash around.The waitress's words feel soft as wool as she asks,"Does everything taste all right?"It does, but it's not that simple.Beef gets torn apart with every bite,Chewed through, crunched throughThe fried onions are spiky, and jab at my tongue while making crackling sounds under the pressure of teeth.The bread is rough and tough, all of the softness toasted out of it.There's too much else going on here for one to just taste their food.
Firewoodwood burns behind usa sweetness that's deceivinglycomforting. I wake.
.a leaf falls; it toohas had to sever itselffrom the one it loves
Haikuthon July 1-31, 20091 tankathe hope ofsummer rain vanishesleavinga neighbor's dogto water the roses2 haikuheat wave chasingall the birds and bluesfrom the sky3 tankaa cloud of gnatsfollowsa child's sno-conethrough the petting zoo4 haiku/senryuold mission archwayblack birds nappingin ascending order5 tankalunch at the beach,businessmen stripand wade intochildhood6 haikulooking out to seathe sky walks a fine line7 haiku rengaair balleton the breakwater...fishermen and gullsunder the pierbait in a plastic pailholding their breath8 haiku/senryustill seeking shade,mating crabs in the shallows9 haikuthe tang of sea air,rot of a morning's catchin my nostrils10 tankathe old sea dogwith his muttscans the boardwalkfor smokesat crack of dawn11 haiku/senryuminefield-jellyfish in theseaweed washing ashore12 senryubeyond the breakers,shaved headsand a buoy bobbing13 haikuevening starwhite-finned boatssailing into dusk14 senryu
trees.down belowbeneath low hangingleaveslives a worldso tiny andserenerain drops dancewhile pink petalssingcrickets chirpfar below theevergreenannouncing love and lifeon the groundbeneath
night sky haikuadorningthe temple's roofcrescent moon
WolvesLuna, our Mother,We raise our voices to her;The Full Moon smiles.Running beneath her,Not once do we go awryWith her guiding help.Luminous delightNever fails to bring sweet changeFrom twilight to Night.Her glee at makingUs, eternal servants, hunt;She sees everything.But we cannot stopTime from passing, its just life.Light is hesitant--But only at first.Before we know it, the sunHas taken back rule.His rule of the sky,Just as Lunas, is neverLasting, a promise.A commitment toAll to return, as Night falls;Eager, we await it.
renga tree- hangoverjust before dawnthe hunchbacked moonlimps home
Haikus from the moonSad grin on the moonSteaming ruins on Earth's surfaceThis world is dying -Sourire triste sur la luneDes ruines fumantes sur la surface de la TerreCe monde se meurt -Lighted by the starsHow impatient Nature is -A camellia bloomsÉclairé par les étoilesLa Nature est si impatiente -Un camélia éclosCold tears falling down,In front of her mother's graveEven time has stoppedDe froides larmes qui tombent,Devant la tombe de sa mèreMême le temps s'est arrêté
Will I also returnI was young as spring,and held to autumn's windlike pomegranates in the highest branches, before crows hollowed them autumn flurries returnwith the scent of fallen fruit,dying leavescrushed underfoot, shelter for next spring
British PetroleumWaves turn sand to mudOil washed away like darknessThat sad, long lost mess