Hi, everyone. Now that May (short story month) has concluded, I’m retiring.
I kid, I kid. To your chagrin! But to be nonfacetious, I’ve been fairly creative—wedging in writing time and, perhaps even more valuable, reading time—in the interim. Amid camps and classes and appointments (oh my), I’ve found a way to make it work. Somehow. I hope you all are doing the same in your creative and life endeavors, however they may mesh.
I’ve got a story debuting (details to come) online, on approximately June 18. That is exciting, and I’ll let you know more when the publisher okays it. It might not be to your taste or, contrarily, it might be just the panacea Dr. Dystopian ordered.
Anyway, in the meanwhile, some haiku I’ve worked on. A few do contain mature language, as opposed to the majority of my writing. 🙂 I hope you will enjoy them and, even more, cherish your one and only (mortal, anyway) life this week and always.
*At an event by the World Bird Sanctuary. Know how you can help raptors? Don’t poison mice or rats, which owls then ingest and die. Use a trap (or a cat).
Sun-catcher shell shields
doughy carapace baking:
Tubers on pretzel-log.
There’s sure evidence that you might not want to write poetry when you’re hungry!
Here. This one’s a bit better (I hope).
Three-Turtle Pond, with Cows
wade, buoyant in brown and white.
Turtles watch, catching sun.
Note: I was hoping to get a photo of cows in the pond, but it hasn’t presented itself yet. Maybe now that the weather’s becoming really summer-steamy?
The Poet Observes Avian Head Movements
Flicking to and fro
chickadee, organic bobbler.
Green-beaked, seeking home.
And now, some less-serious (a.k.a. bad) haiku.
If Emily Dickinson were writing Haiku today (after “Because I could not stop for Death”)
O, Death stopped Alright.
Spying tin Carriage in Flight
Grounds these feet, a-fright.
If Emily Dickinson were writing Haiku today #2 (after “A narrow Fellow in the Grass”)
Slim slinker sidles
by. Petrifier of flesh,
take that! (Stomp!) Brains threshed!
The Fictionist Attempts Haiku
Pantser gathers thoughts
like wool. Writes the McNovel:
beats Egg Macguffins.
If Hemingway Wrote Haiku
Scott proposed haiku.
I countered boxing. Hands up!
Knocked a novel outta him.
If Hemingway Wrote Haiku #2
Virgil aside, poets are
shit-magnets. Posing words in-
stead of dissecting.
If Clive Barker Wrote Haiku
Arm severed op’ning
laptop. Blood spurts, filling eyes.
Fuck all, I’m bored.
If Clive Barker Wrote Haiku #2
The devil dealt with
me, needful nightbreeder. I
choked him with his tail.
Okay, that’s enough to have battered your senses properly.