Against the backdrop 
of the city she was like a 
breath of fresh air.

I held the feather
and watched the breeze touch it, 
thinking, "Where's this bird now?"

"Gotta make a move 
to a town that's right for me.
Town to keep me movin'."
                                 -Lipps, Inc.

We're born in the wild,
wild at heart, we are the wild 
child sowing wild oats. 

The pigeon's fine, 
but I miss the crow. I just
can't relate to pigeons.

The air outside is 

thin and still. It looks just as 

lonely as I feel.

I wrote a poem 
with the only time I have
while the children sleep.

The tops of the trees.
The roofs of the homes. The window
I look out of.

Today's haiku's brought 
to you by the letter R 
and the number 4.

The night is long, but 
not long enough for I hate 
to wake from my dreams.

Their light is soft and
floats up as if they were sparks 
escaping the fire.

This haiku's about
the sky, because the sky's so
mysterious to me.

Each place you've been
you've left a little of you,
taken a bit of them.

Steady-as-she-goes guy
meets balls-to-the-wall girl.
The rest's history.

Sometimes I wish I 
were over there or back there, 
but I'm just right here.

The air was hot and
the clouds covered me with shade
and there were some trees.

I looked over and
saw them loving each other
like no one else could.

You have to invest
in the souls. Without the souls,
man, you got nothin'.

"I would say, 'Go to 
hell', but I don't ever want 
to see you again."

I might've taught my 
daughter something, but mostly
she's taught me everything.

Lines in the sands are
blurred by complements, contrasts
I feel with my heart.

I have a new respect. 
For the Gypsy follows 
a difficult road.

I often walk 
straight ahead, but it's nice to stop 
and look back sometimes.

Sometimes there are souls 
in this universe that just 
need to hang out hard.

Becoming someone new
hurts. But, I can't wait to meet
her. She'll be so cool.

Four times four plus 
one, not two, makes seven 
syllables for a haiku.

There was a plane in 
the sky like a moon and the
buildings glowed like gold.

I'm growing two plants.
One's in a pot and one's wild.
They give me my breath.

They walked in time to
the music or the sounds kept 
time with the city.

Living a dream.
Because, there are many, many 
more dreams to be lived.

The human wildlife 
is thick on the pavement. Like 
blankets on the sands.

The tree roots grew up
through the concrete cracks reminding
me of my place.

One day I'm anchored
down to ground. The next I'm 
whisked away by winds.

There's a lot of
honking in this town. Today there
was a little less.

It was night and the
moon was white and out and I 
felt calm and content.

The A/C blew my 
hair while I watched the wind blow
the tops of the trees.

Concrete jungle, an
apartment in the city, Seinfeld;
I get it now.

I miss hearing the 
sound of your keys at the door.
This city's too loud.

The city's under
my skin, on it, in it; a 
city-skin fusion.

Then it was clear I'd 
never know these people. They'd 
always be strangers.

You never know the 
rains until you've known every
kind of rain there is.

It is not about 
where you live. It's about how 
you live where you are.

It's time to shine and 
if you're not shiny it's time
to buy some polish.

There could be concrete
between us, but I'm nature. I 
can still feel the earth.

The sky was a perfect
pink-black. The silhouettes were 
ones I could see through.

You choose your 
adventures in this life. My 
adventure is a party.

I'm not sure the right 
way to say it, but the sky's 
beautiful in your eyes.

It's hard to know how 
to say, in just the right way, 
that this night is cool.

The mosquitoes, the
roaches even the squirrels are
bolder here. My heart.

Her shirt said, "I brought
the awesome. What did you bring?"
And I thought, 'The noise.'

The sounds of evening
were floating through the windows.
Sounds of quieting.

With a lotta love
and just a little time it'll all 
start to feel better.

It's been a rough day,
Soldier, but you made it through.
Call it Victory.

The people sway with
the rhythm of the train. The
train sways with the land.

The immensity
just hit me. Depths, layers that
only gods could know.

I got nothin'. I 
rolled the dice, played the hand and 
all I got's nothin'.

Color and light come 
through my eyes. I feel layers
building from within.

Love is a dog from
Hell and sometimes it's a sweet
kitten from Heaven.

The center of every
universe lies in every 
heart in every home.

This haiku is for
you, dear. Oh and you and you
and you and you, too.

From this height I can
see the tops of the trees; the 
wind blowing the leaves.

I think I've felt 
every feeling there is to feel.
Then I feel one more.

It is only love 
that could be the death of my 
heart a million times.

Today all the sadness
in the world is making 
me feel really sad.

I thought about them
and cried and then I dreamt
about them all night long.

It's too late to talk
now, but I'll be dreaming of
your voice all night long.

"Her light dress fell like
petals. 'I love everything,'
she heard herself say."
                    -The Amazing Bone

It's that moment when 
you realize you are really,
really far from home.

I fell in love with 
the butcher and left my heart 
in New York City.

I remember the 
barefoot wildness of childhood.
I miss it so much.

There was so much I 
wanted to say to you, love, 
but now you're asleep.

The shadows are not 
the same here and neither are 
the sounds that they make.

I should be writing
about the city, but I'm too 
busy loving it.

The rain's different here. 
So are the sirens. A stranger 
in a strange land.

All around me I 
could see sands wet with rain 
except from where I stood.

The sky was good to
me today. It held me with
its cool, cloudy arms.

The nurse is to the 
doctor as the food-runner 
is to the waiter.

Hey, look out New York, 
New York! No sleep til Brooklyn 
for these New York Dolls.

Smell the sun. It smells 
like passion and aggression 
and never quitting.

I can't look away
from your devil's face even 
though I know I should.

Then he wrote, "We must
not touch our idols. The gilt
sticks to our fingers."
                                     -Flaubert

As I watched my
daughter sleeping soundly I 
thought,  "Please don't grow up."

"The tide is high, but
I'm holding on. I'm gonna 
be your number one."
                             -John Holt

I hear cheering down
the street. Like they're playing a
game. I'm kinda jealous.

The pages smelled like
an old-growth forest. The dust 
flew and made me sneeze.

As surely and
instantly as I felt it, I
felt it no longer.

Inspiration comes
from living things, growing, dying;
the things that breath life.

A good writer 
doesn't just talk well, but he listens
really well, too.

A storyteller,
dreamer, dramatist, historian;
the poet showman.

Your lips were so warm.
Mine were on fire. I wanted
your kiss forever.

her hair back-lit by 
the sun, waving from the playground,
smile in her heart

Good things come to those
who wait and, also, sometimes 
to those who don't wait.

I delight in you 
knowing me, not knowing me, 
clinging and not to me.

She dreamed of the 
city and their lives swinging in 
hammocks by the sea.

I could hear the guy
next door snoring, but he moved.
Now I hear a new guy.

I think Madonna
said it best when she said,
"I need a holiday."

I sat on the bed
to watch her sleep, because I
missed her so much.

Oh, what shall we do 
with a drunken sailor, early 
in the morning?

I don't want to think
about poems. I want to 
feel the sun, air, stars.

This morning the birds
and I woke up while it was 
dark. Before the sun.