only blog can make a tree

a dilemma of
riches in tiny topaz
the art of language

haikouldn’t ask it of you

“Read my poem? Please?”
In real life I’d get blank stares.
Here, you’re back for more.

Dubious milestone

Just over five months
This one four hundred fifty
Art or wasted time?

I’ve lied to you

A haiku a day?
Not quite. Some days the tap runs,
some days it’s bone dry.

Spring in the air

Mud has a smell that’s
like waking up to coffee.
You know you’re alive.

Snowmelt

the constant dripping
nature’s tears of joy as she
sees her world reborn

In like a lion, out like a lamb

What’s that mean? That spring’s
a dominatrix, whipping
March ’til it submits?

Tina Fey’s new black

Reclaiming the word,
she grabs the bitch by the horns
and makes us all proud.

Negative campaigning

With all this trash talk
even the winner comes out
smelling like garbage.

Last lines

for jem who says, “it’s your last lines that get me everytime.

I’d like to think of
myself as the O. Henry
of the haiku form.