CHRIS GORDON early haiku 1994-1996

March 27, 2014 § Leave a comment


my cold feet

step on her bra

still warm


fallen elm leaves

the plastic bag



unlocking the door

the key she gave

back to me


I buy

another book about




Modern Haiku 25.2



a beautiful mouth

the postal clerk says

she likes my writing



Modern Haiku 25.3



fast-food containers

the weeds green from

the warm rain



Modern Haiku 26.1



the hot asphalt roof small white petals blow in circles


her hand covers my ear the sound blood makes



Modern Haiku 26.2



tea our silence and the hot still morning garden


light warm rain

mosquitos drift up

through wisteria and dusk


the full moon

coats the dark lake

boarding an empty bus



Frogpond 18.2



the orange glint of rush hour way up there a hawk circling


a train enters the distance empty sheets smooth and cool


imagining her with someone else behind the blinds the moon


weeks later her sweet voice it’s just a machine


the crosswalk whistles skimming the pavement an empty bag



Frogpond 18.3



in the dust splotches of rain half the billboard flaps in the wind


a gliding egret the clouds converge on themselves



Frogpond 19.3


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