CHRIS GORDON haiku ’96 part two

February 26, 2016 § Leave a comment

 

the bus grows somewhat quiet I ring the bell

 

greeting a stranger in the smell of baked chicken

 

lonely for ideas I have never had

 

ottery tickets

 

while you were sleeping the bees began dying

 

I blow smoke into the opening of the phone bill

 

geese nibble the dark stuff we have our separate rooms

 

 

 

CHRIS GORDON haiku ’96 part one

February 23, 2016 § Leave a comment

 

one dandelion
seed clings to the stalk
no diagnosis

 
a leaking faucet
butterflies mating in
all this smog

 
rain drops catch
the lamps and
strike my face

 
visible only in
the shaft of light
a circling fly

 
storm clouds
a circling crow
drifts eastward

 
the buildings
disappear a coot
surfaces

 
the radio
barely audible
late at night

 
the snails have
paid more attention
than I have

 
my finger follows
the wet curves
of her ear

 
underneath
the colorful garbage
hints of autumn

 
a lamp left on
in an empty room
sparrows at dusk

 
a moth has flown
out of my mouth
or so it seems

 
drawing blood
she says I look like
my name

 

 

 

 

 

 

MASKS 2

February 11, 2016 § Leave a comment

“The amusing alter-egos of famous haiku poets”

 

untitled

February 9, 2016 § Leave a comment

 

between two bricks

something moves

a blade of grass

 

 

 

untitled

February 4, 2016 § Leave a comment

don’t have my tongue in your cheek I have it in mine

 

 

 

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