Haiku 1.11

Ah, coffee coffee
coffee coffee coffee, ah
first cup of coffee.

Haiku 1.8

Leafed with mobs, shills and
mercenaries, this tree’s roots
spread deeply and wide.

Grey clouds and cold rain
nipping at fingertips, we
wait for something new.

It’s better sometimes
to simply not say, better
to wait for the dawn.

As each petal falls
from these darkening roses
time bleeds more freely

Hordes of blank notebooks
beside rollerball pens.
Dawn sizzles through fog.

Gray pavement glistens.
Rain anoints guttered leaves. Steam
swells over coffee.

Dance of the old house
radiator: knit sweater
off, on, off, on, off

Hallway body slam
thunders sleeping eyes open.
Addled, all time stops.

See, if we turn both
our chairs this way, it will seem
a different world