I Might

Maybe if it was raining,
I might write.
I might hide
behind words,
I might.
I might sigh
despite my kind,
I might.
I might light
this night,
I might.


This Poor Soul

Always dreaming,
this pour soul
always conflicting,
this poor soul,
above ground,
this poor soul
always digging
into that same hole
always flooding,
this poor hole
always draining,
this poor hole
into ground,
this poor hole
always feeding
into this poor soul.


Bedroom Haikus

His gray sweater:
in his closet, hanging,
waiting for winter.

His black tuxedo:
Remembering ancient, prom nights,
collecting dust now.

His brown dress shoes:
in need of detailed cleaning
and some attention.

His warm, winter coat:
heating the air around it,
constantly retaining.

His old, beaten up stereo:
aching for music as always
on the ready.

His orange alarm clock:
one, two, three minutes off!
Will it wake him tomorrow?


The Coat Pocket

He's hurrying now.
Grabbing his things.

He grabs:
                his clothes:
                                  shirts, pants, socks, underwear,
                                                       coat with the ripped pockets.

Where were his keys?

                                                       The pockets again?

Things are piling in the suitcase.
He must've stuffed the thing:

                                               six times.

                                                                       And the zipper.
                                                         How hard it was to pull–

                                              pull the fabrics closer.

And it finally zipped.

His keys.

Where were they?
                                                          In the pocket again?

He looked around wildly.
                                                          He didn't want to check.

                                                          The hole led into the rest of the coat;
                                                          they could be anywhere;
                                                          he'd have to shake it.


                                                                                                   Not the coat.

                                     The dresser?
                                     The end table?
                                     The top of the stereo?
                                     Behind the speakers?
                                                           The coat pocket?
                                                                  –He will not yet check.

                                     The bed?
                                     Under the sheets?
                                     The blankets?
                                     Under the suitcase?
                                     Did he stack the clothes
                                     on top of them?
                                            –He checks quick.
                                            –He checks too quick.
                                                                      –Oh well.
                                     On the bookshelf?
                                            –He needs to read more.
                                            –He promises himself
                                              he will read more.
                                            –Reread the classics.
                                            –Relive the past.
                                     Under the bed?
                                     Did he bring them in there?
                                            –Thought so.

The desk!
In the living room!
The tables!
The chairs!
The counters!

                                                                                        The coat pocket.  


                                                                                        The coat pocket.                  


Where is my Mind? (Haiku)

I checked way out in the water
Didn’t see it swimmin’
Where is my mind?


A Dog Sits on the Porch (Haiku)

A dog sits on the porch
He looks out among the trees
I wonder: Does he miss the wild?


American Spirit (Haiku)

“Can I have a light?”
Says one fool to the other.
For an instant: red.