Tuesday, January 17, 2012

7 Anyway

Rain has stopped driving
And runs around the corner:
Winter ignores signs.

Sunday, January 15, 2012

5

Dawn's empty playground,
Dusted for the prints of night:
Sun's turn to swing high.

4

I, the Haruplex,
read what these entrails augur:
Um. Tree guts froze. Cold.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

3: Portrait of the Artist as my Son

Saturday. Suit. Tie.
The playwright edits his script,
Light from no mere lamp.

2

Slid beneath the gate,
Light pools onto alley snow,
Sneaks into footprints.

Friday, January 13, 2012

Opening the door




Every morning, I walk my dog, whose excruciatingly slow pace has inspired me to do something with my mind beyond just asking him to hurry up. The haiku and haiga (haiku accompanied by and sometimes woven into images) in this blog are the result of Mikey's sniffing. Thanks be to dog.