contemporary haiku since 1994
October 22, 2026 § Leave a comment
•
inexplicably
in the gravel
pizza crust
the moon says
fuck your
f-stop
the raccoons
sniff through
the edges of the door
why is hearse
part of that
word
the orchids
outlast the rest
you rehearse your speech
our stretch
of the highway
filled with sheriffs
eggs that taste
like fish from
the store
the wind reverses
in the field and
brings a stench
hidden messages
in our notes
about the cats
October 20, 2026 § Leave a comment
grassy hill
trash heap
from the 40s
« Older Entries
Have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.