Mama and Papa
sitting in a tree
K-I-S-S-I-N-G!

She looked up. Through the
dust her disgust was thick. She had 
had dreams now just squash.

The moon was aloof 
that night. It reminded me of 
the night it wasn't.

"Borderline" blared and 

they turned south on 33rd 

then east on Prescott.

The tips of the trees,
the tops of the clouds, the ends
of the earth meeting.

The ocean, she is
beautiful, but it's the river 
that has my heart.

It was the kind of 
cloud I thought would make the
perfect kingdom someday.

I realized then I 
was in love all over again
for the first time.

I felt the moon and 
I were thinking the same thing.
'Yep, we're trapped, dude.'

Starving for you. Starved
for you. So hungry. Ravenous
wolf at full moon.

PODS brings all the 
pickers to the yard and they're, 
like, it's freer than yours.

Some days are for
writing and some days are for
thinking about writing.

I woke, looked out a
window, and wondered what 
sea was it that I saw.

Standing by the 
sticker bushes and looking
down the empty alley.

I had to get used 
to new sounds, new sights and 
meet a few new spirits.

"Oh yeah, I say, life
goes on. Long after the thrill
of livin' is gone."
-John Cougar

The sticks and bark chips
reminded me of a child 
I knew long ago.

I saw the cat through
the fence and I could've touched
him, but for that fence.

I feel them howling.
too. We're far from home and need 
the moon to lead us.

I left a hard boiled 
egg out for the flies, because
they were hungry, too.

I feel like quoting 
Destiny's Child, 'cause yo, I 
am a SURVIVOR!!

Finger crossing and
clover leaves. Stars for wishing 
and Buddha rubbed.

Dreams do shatter, but
into a bunch of pieces that
become other dreams.

The highway lights, all 
fake yellowish-orange, are the 
smells of my childhood.

I've felt particularly
quiet for all the talking 
I need to hear.

I parked in the
shade of the sign, because it
was a hot, hot day.

The sound of the freight
train reminded me I'd been
riding the subway.

I think that I love
it. Especially when I
say that I hate it.

It's the sun. It's 
always that rad, awesome,
crazy lady the sunshine.

I came back and it
was all exactly the same
and a bit different

Tonight I'll be restless.
I'll dream, but wake from the 
dream and hope to sleep.

Reality is 
the old men don't play the chess.
They just talk some shit.

Tonight I heard the
cicada singing with her 
electricity voice.

What if somewhere else

to someone else YOU are the 

ghost haunting their room?

I'm not going to 
Hell. I could live there now. And 
Heaven's all around me.

Howl at the sky. Howl 
at the moon. Let your heart howl
at the everything.

I avoid a lot 
of eyes, but when I see them
I'm hooked like a fish. 

The touch of your skin.
The feel of your hair. The sense
of your hand near mine.

The clouds looked perfect.
Like they hadn't moved for
years or centuries.

Where the old wave meets
the new wave and the sand slips 
out from under me.

There was a building
and another building and 
somewhere there was sky.

The dragonfly buzzed
by her head. Lingered. Two 
creatures living new lives.

Tears fall at the drop 
of a hat, the turning of 
a new leaf, your eyes.

It's all or nothing.
Crazy, sane. I wouldn't want it 
any other way.

Excited/Morose.
Scared/Sure. Nostalgic/Hopeful.
Laughing/Crying. Sighs.

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.