Sunday, September 9

Haiku I - III

You can blame Salinger – or a little more accurately, Seymour Glass – for this. It’s Saturday night. I haven’t felt so low in quite a while. Now I am having a crack at haiku, which you’ll forgive me for being a little embarrassed about. Here are three. (To go even further, some might say I was pursuing greater awareness of rhythm and economy. If I’m going to visit the same restaurant every Saturday night, I may as well try everything on the menu, right?)


because I am not
ready to end it all – I
swat the mosquito


nothing took my breath
away; it sang out at last
getting into bed


my dog’s paws are not
even – the right is outweighed
by a big tumour

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