Haiku #746 – #747

746.

Domesticated
Nature, we imagined farmers
Using a manual

747.

Two thousand years old,
Surgeons too, even lawyers.
The sky remains blue.

Haiku #629

629.

All those car owners
Driving by, I did not know,
Before they too died.

The Rival

My art is fuel for my self,
It’s all about survival;
Watering plants in a drought,
Mundanity’s suddenly vital.

I wanted a different existence,
To find my higher rival;
Meanwhile art is all I’ve got
Before touching down on arrival.

Later, above that lofty shelf
Too late the dim apostasy!
Knowing I was safer below,
O art, protect my soul from me.

When a unicorn falls from the wall
Then we are all in trouble;
Until that day I’ll paint my bed,
And write beneath the rubble.

Haiku #291

291.

Thoughts like pearl raindrops,
Fall the red rhyming couplets;
This imperfect one.

Haiku #289

289.

As the word homage
Is as a sister to pay,
I reflect on you.

Haiku #71-73

71.

The water carries its bare stories,
Blocked by a dam
Above a lake without words.

72.

Black necks of Canada Geese jab
In the mulch of November’s leftovers.
Warning signs abound.

73.

The book is my gun
And I am on the run,
A fugitive from knowledge.