Sunday Morning Haiku
condensation covers
half the attic window:
the life within
men emerging from their houses
in slacks and rubber shoes:
gone to fetch the paper
pigeon on a lamppost
preens fussily this morning:
last night it rained for hours
underneath the tree
a gnome smokes a cigarette:
the heavy shower
he kissed her
but her eyes were cool:
parting sunday morning
4 comments:
hurrah!
- r.
Ralph, I can't tell you how nice it is to be writing poetry again. Thought the bitch Muse had deserted me forever, like all the other women in my life who don't--for some reason--appreciate being abused and taken for granted. Funny lot.
good stuff
and i don't think the muse deserts us - but rather we desert it
at least its that way for me
ralph
i hear you were up to calumet
sorry i missed you if that is the case -
that my messy studio next to spakes
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