·
just
····her knees—sharp as the evening’s
········crickets
·
····her knees—sharp as the evening’s
········crickets
·
·
·
266 September 24th 2017 | bottlecap
·
Advertisements
Tag Archives: Haiku
September 23rd 2017
·
after
····the house-lights go out—the Milky
········Way
·
····the house-lights go out—the Milky
········Way
·
·
·
265 September 23rd 2017 | bottlecap
·
September 22nd 2017
·
hiding
····in a dustpan—the cricket keeps the broom
········company
·
····in a dustpan—the cricket keeps the broom
········company
·
·
·
264 September 22nd 2017 | bottlecap
·
September 21st 2017
·
moon
····slender as a matchstick—hot September
········nights
·
····slender as a matchstick—hot September
········nights
·
·
·
263 September 21st 2017 | bottlecap
·
September 20th 2017
·
just
····to be sure—the apple-drunk hornet stings me
········again
·
····to be sure—the apple-drunk hornet stings me
········again
·
·
·
262 September 20th 2017 | bottlecap
·
September 19th 2017
·
trees
····in autumn—colors dissolving in the pond’s
········wind
·
····in autumn—colors dissolving in the pond’s
········wind
·
·i
·
261 September 19th 2017 | bottlecap
·
September 18th 2017
·
leaves
····scratching the pavement—autumn heat-
········wave
·
····scratching the pavement—autumn heat-
········wave
·
·
A summer’s heat and humidity has returned to Vermont while three cords of firewood need to be stacked in the dooryard. Can’t imagine needing it. Even the snow shovel’s colors, leaning where I left since the snow melt, fades in September’s heat.
·
260 September 18th 2017 | bottlecap
·
September 17th 2017
·
fat
····as pumpkins before the first frost—wolf
········spiders
·
····as pumpkins before the first frost—wolf
········spiders
·
·
September’s leaves are dry and brittle, not the colors of late summer. They clatter against the other leaves as they fall, like the bones of moths, spiders and dragonflies. So much else falls with the leaves.
·
259 September 17th 2017 | bottlecap
·
September 16th 2017
·
too
····humid to sleep—a cat on the old car’s
········hood
·
····humid to sleep—a cat on the old car’s
········hood
·
·
When I wrote the post’s date, I typed 1978. I have no idea where that came from. All kinds of memories surfaced. I remember always writing, in pencil, the date on top of my elementary school papers, and remember writing 1978. I remember the new kid in school who single-handedly killed bell-bottomed jeans by wearing white baggy pants. All the boys ridiculed him but did 180ºs when they saw the girls ogling him—the rebel, the new kid, a boxer, fleet, and funny. There were only four channels to watch when I got home: NBC, ABC, CBS and PBS. I always watched The Amazing Spiderman, Gilligan’s Island, or Bewitched on the weekdays. When I was younger I sat on my grandfather’s lap and watched westerns like Bonanza and Gunsmoke. My memories of the 70’s are loud cars, terrifying teen-aged boys with long hair and women with hair to their waists and longer nails. Humid nights. Moths trafficking in the air above the night-lit football fields. Highschool cheerleaders. Sweating middle-aged men smoking cigarettes as they watched the young girls. All good memories.
·
258 September 16th 2017 | bottlecap
·
September 15th 2017
·
pools
····on the windowsill—the apple pie’s timer
········rings
·
····on the windowsill—the apple pie’s timer
········rings
·
·
·
257 September 15th 2017 | bottlecap
·
