A spell so evil
even the evilest of evil
will spook and scare. 

Sitting quietly
before the storm hits summoning
my inner witch.

We can expect nothing
from our children other than
to be who they are.

I really don't mean
to be the way I am. I 
just can't help myself.

Then Jesus said, 
"Screw you, buddy! You're on your own."
Wait, no he didn't.

The baby's soft head
against my breast create a 
warm glow all their own.

It didn't need any 
scary decor. The house 
was spooky enough. 

Chillaxin' like 
Budha at sunset, quiet, 
underneath a big tree.

It's one of those days
where every person I see 
is just beautiful.

As I walk this land
I feel the ancestors in
everything that breathes.

It's not just the kitchen
that's hot, honey. That heat 
you feel is all me.

I like crows, horses,
buffalo, coyotes, cats,
rattlesnakes and raccoons. 

I am standing in
the living room bouncing the baby
watching my soap.

I thought I knew you.
I was clearly wrong. Disappointment
hurts. Sad face.

The smell of the smoke
and the white wine together
make me like this world.

The crow sat atop
a pumpkin pecking its skin.
And the world seemed right.

Your features are sharp
like the beak, soft like the
feathers of a rare bird.

The grey falls down
around you until you become
thick in the season.

The dude next door likes
to sing out loud, but he sort 
of sings like a girl

There is a way I 
remember my childhood. It's 
not the way it was.

Until the earth is
swallowed by a black hole and
becomes bright grey dust.

Shame and guilt are
useless emotions gifted from 
the hands of others.

She was worth fighting
for like she was the only 
girl left in the world.

It takes a little 
longer, but by helping others
you help yourself.

There is poetry
in the air. You can smell it
darn near everywhere.

Then there is the smell
of the homemade pie cooling
on the window sill.

The season of dreams,
nostalgia, déjà vu.
The season of the witch.

As I carry my 
babe, the mamas before 
me carried theirs, too.

I love the way the
moon's reflection lights up the
night road's rain water.

Sometimes I like to
think about the cavewoman
burping her baby.

It's really hard
writing a haiku every single
day of my life.

I just want to tell
you, from the bottom of my  
big heart, I love you.

Time can feel so short
or very long or like it's 
been no time at all.

They call me a 
romantic. I wouldn't have it 
any other way.

Leaving the plains for 
the rain forest. I'll miss my
friend, the tumbleweed.

My eyes and thoughts may
wander, but my heart and soul
are always at home.

I dreamt about you
last night and I'm pretty sure
you dreamt about me.

The weeping willow
is always so pretty even
when it's crying.

Love will bring us 
together. Hate will tear us apart.
It's that simple.

Mom, can you tell the 
story of you growing up?
Yes, I can daughter.

You can call me out
on the rug and I'll say,
"May I have this dance?"

That train follows me
wherever I go. Even
when I'm far from home.

"All you need is your
own imagination. So use it
that's what it's for."
-Madonna

Somewhere someone is
thinking about you and 
wishing you were closer.

Here I am, again,
writing another haiku 
for you to enjoy.

Fact mixes with fiction, 
past becomes present and 
dreams are reality.

I dreamt it was the
holidays and my grandmother
was still alive.

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,
yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,
yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

The piano teacher
moved out. I miss the notes
floating through the window.

I could watch your bright 
eyes watching the world for as 
long as the world turns.

It's as simple as
watching you wax your hair and 
I'm in love again.

Laughter might be the 
only survival skill you'll 
need in this cruel world.