Sunday, May 1

Collected Haiku #21

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a kid cries, phone rings
other child turbulent
my mind's on the moon

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listen to the creaks
dishwasher, lights, floor, music
of your absent voice

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art center empty
across street parking lot full
poker room figments

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every poem is
a lie we accept as truth
authentic fiction

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one said, "dialogue
is inferior to thoughts,"
and our brains melted

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"blunderclumped" a word
at urban dictionary
english grows, huzzah!

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an afternoon nap
world drifts by like red canoe
hurry up! paddle!

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if these words are lost
in static of the future
will our minds mingle?

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watermelon rind
dropped in back of pickup truck
someone honks a horn

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