Thursday 8 November 2018

Haiku (November)

Haiku: my iphone a pond of apps, lilypads for frogs, dropping in. Pink cups fall off magnolia, where seventeen green haiku emerge. After downpour the park dries into isolated dog splash haiku. Corrugated fences midnight haiku spray-canned, height of a human. November haiku: MCG carpark empty as a crushed beercan. How to describe the corner of Flinders and Spencer in a haiku? That cloudless star lights up the haiku a dead man called global village. Cat haiku: sleep twitch wake scratch eat wash lick purr stroll leap curl pounce rest snooze. Billboards on in out arterials, messages concise as haiku...


Haiku (November)

Haiku: my iphone a pond of apps, lilypads for frogs, dropping in.

Pink cups fall off magnolia, where seventeen green haiku emerge.

After downpour the park dries into isolated dog splash haiku.

Corrugated fences midnight haiku spray-canned, height of a human.

November haiku: MCG carpark empty as a crushed beercan.

How to describe the corner of Flinders and Spencer in a haiku?

That cloudless star lights up the haiku a dead man called global village.

Cat haiku: sleep twitch wake scratch eat wash lick purr stroll leap curl pounce rest snooze.

Billboards on in out arterials, messages concise as haiku...


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