Thursday, October 27, 2016

sad wet leaves
yesterday you flew
today you drown

Monday, October 24, 2016

broken Haiku day

driving down Hamline
yellow leaves run here and there

On Monday morning
      my coffee has no soul

Saturday, October 22, 2016

there is a quiet place
   where words are born
and poems are made
     it is filled with noise
things I have seen
     and felt
are but shadows
     of my mind
dancing here
     leaving me
to wonder there
hazy and brown
     everywhere life
searches for water
     Bakersfield valley

Friday, October 21, 2016

lining a sidewalk
their leaves burning in the cold
falls fire stands tall

Thursday, October 20, 2016

yesterdays leaves danced
    they wore their best colors
today they are gone
     and the trees lay bare
sunlight on its face
    above roof tops
blue grey clouds behind
    red leaf hair peaks
I am trying to write other forms of poetry.
 I find the lack of form and rules sorta like being naked.
I never realized how much the 5-7-5  help form my words
I wonder if it is strength or weakness
above the water
winters waiting white as snow
birch branches stand nude

Wednesday, October 19, 2016

I see the sprinkle of colorful leaves
as the tree limbs flow in the wind
the shadow of my pen is writing

I love how brilliant the leaves get
   before they die
It gives me hope I will burn brightest
     before the end
shadows of my paper look like skin
I see the leaves
  dancing in the wind
the colors go from green
  then fade to red
the naked shapes beneath
   waiting to reveal
hot light on my face
I see the colors dancing
graffiti rolls by


sleeping in the sun
my mind wanders many roads
I dream of haiku

Monday, October 10, 2016

I took a road trio out to California this last week. I wrote a bunch of Haiku on the trip.

ditches filled with green
farmers waiting to harvest
low clouds over corn

Small black silhouettes
standing in yellow pastures
wilting sunflowers

large silver silos
waiting to be filled with grain
standing in clusters
rolling plains around
adorned dreadlocks with wood beads
tell me where I'm at

yellow grasses sway
same roosters different sky line
with horses yelling

head stones among sage
famous dead outlaws lie lost
what a view from here

bushes that look like buffalo
shadows of shadows
a land filled with ghost
( not a 5-7-5, but I like it.)

black sky and black ground
my eyes see no difference
Arizona sleep

fighting in the dark
white and red battle it out
Hello Sir Helgi

palm fronds on hot wind
sushi served on white platters
Santa Monica

on top of a hill
stone blocks and trees stands Getty
many eyes looking

awake before Dawn
I am surprised to be cold
at Great Western War

clanking of bottles
I sit thinking of haiku
last nights reverie

next to a shit truck
I'm pondering yesterday
trying to let go

Owls in the night
what are they talking about
hopefully good things

many miles seen
watching our shadow fly by
desert to grassland.

The whole trip is now memory.