Miscellaneous Silly Stuff:
Just a bunch of haiku-sized poems that are too silly, too wit-based,
too explicit, too socially involved to belong on the haiku pages
(though some I've put in both sections, as being borderline haiku/senryu).
We kissed long and hard -
it is not easy to learn
a foreign tongue.
How does a dachshund
get an erection?
Actually I've never noticed how dachshunds get erections, but,
looking at how low-slung they are, I have to think they'd be in
danger of harming themselves if much of a vertical vector was involved.
Such an erection would be like a large muffler on a low-rider car.
a switch flicks the day on.
Morning becomes electric.
With 24 hours of darkness, morning is defined by the light switch,
not the sun, which gives me the pun on the title of O'Neill's play,
"Mourning Becomes Electra."
Whine of dentist's drill
wakes me - dentist's drill?
Oh, the CuisineArt...
"Hello, little fox" -
He stares at me, would love to talk,
but has to run.
Perched on a stool,
the guitarist does the BEFORE
of a posture ad.
Talcum sky -
someone's powdered that soft
Catkin stretched palpably
against deep blue -
"Ament" is a botanical word for "catkin".
Catkins ("tassellike spikes of closely clustered, small...flowers
without petals, as on a willow, birch or poplar: also called 'ament'"
- says Webster) are firm, stiff spikes. Hence firm ament. But it's
the firmament (sky) against which the catkin stretches. This is
a mindless pun. Webster adds that mindlessness is amentia, no kin
nor catkin to ament, apparently.
Old red wagon bumps
down the hill: UMPH UMPH UMPH --
Three "umphs" equals tri-umph.
Autumn - the crackling
of little bones in the
all the stoplights
On the major avenues, many lights at once (or in timed blocs
on some of them) turn green, red, orange. Not many trees in view
along some of the avenues - the orange lights will have to do.
Fall wind's touch tickles
fallen leaves; they curl up,
Babinsky reflex sound.
"Babinsky reflex," often tested by doctors on newborns:
If you lightly stroke the sole of the foot, it should clench inward
(toes toward heels). With certain nervous system ailments, it will
extend outward (toes up and away from heels).
In mid-street a leaf
rattles two inches and stops:
The air hiccupped.
Winter - the trees are just
And the scarecrows are just straw men.
Summer sky - no clouds,
just whiteness. Can't we
change the channel?
Last night, ice cream,
this morning gray drizzle:
There are two distinct drizzles here, as will be quickly grasped
by anyone who has difficulty digesting ice cream.
Stop HASSLING me!
says tree. HEY! says wind - HEY!
You LISTEN to me!
Radical haiku or senryu? - reader's choice.
Lightning, heavy rain.
"STAY OFF THE ROADS" says the
The punchline is the world "car" in the last line.
This news comes to us too late to be of use. We're already on the
ZAP - a fly
goes for a short exciting ride
on a frog's tongue.
"Private! Private!" bark
suburban dogs, as excited
as insulted virgins.
Dregs of sunset -
a deep purple sulk
along the western rim.
Really neither haiku nor senryu, just a short, descriptive bit
of free verse that happens to be the right size. Even senryu, for
all its freedom to be clever, doesn't sermonize to this extent via
loaded words and metaphors (dregs, sulk). I include it as an example
of something or other. (Fill in my blankness.)
The sun's hot date.
He primps in his pitted mirror:
The moon is, after all, pitted and a mirror in that it reflects
the sun's light. However, having the sun be both the light source
and the image reflected throws off the metaphor a bit. But who has
a better right to reflect upon itself in a mirror than light itself?
Poor tulips -- bloomed
into a frost. Froggie
instructs them: Bud wiser.
Alluding to the Buddweiser beer TV commericals in which a frog
Faint crescent moon
there, just above the chimney --
Closer to haiku than senryu, perhaps, but the "cleverness"
of the metaphor (faint bit of moon - sky lint) tends toward senryu.
Among the pine needles
a red Coke can, but at the
tree top, no star.
Someone tossed the Coke can away, and it caught in the pine's
branches, as if it were a crude Xmas tree bauble.
White sheet, gray dawn light...
a cardinal wins the day
with flying colors.
The white sheet is a white sheet (between me and the blankets)
- or it could be a milky white sky.
Old cat leaves my lap --
a flea on my knee! Deserting
the sinking ship?
The cat is old, hence "sinking", and getting pretty
far along if even the fleas are leaving (as rats are said to desert
a sinking ship). (She lived 22 years, not bad.)
From the trees cascade
ruby shoes as we plunge
From autumn's technicolor to winters monochrome, similar to
the shift from technicolor Oz to monochrome Kansas when traveling
on the ruby-shoe (or red leaf) express.
Nudist camp --
all the rosy cheeks
coming and going.
That is, the facial cheeks coming, the posterior cheeks going
Opening Microsoft Windows
Bill Gates says ending
is beginning: To shut down,
we click on "Start-Up".
Upgrades 95 -- simple,
freezes my Windows.
Asking for my files --
please do not say an error...
Data may be lost
if you proceed. Proceed? Yes?
No? (Where is Maybe?)
Opening E-mail --
error! WHAT error!?
Click...click...click click CLICK!
The mouse makes nothing happen.
Even this does doodly-squat.
Curse, press "OFF", then pray.
Lightning...you'll have time,
MUCH time, for cherry blossoms --
no surge protector.
Clicking on icons
this spring day, I wonder what
my neighbor's doing.
The above silly sequence is also included among my haiku sequences,
though it's really a senryu sequence.
Autumn in L.A.
All the air is turning brown.
Crackle of dry lungs.
Smoggy weather. I hear it's not so bad now. I lived there mostly
in the seventies and early eighties.
Trees lacy with spring.
Summer does far cruder
That is, compared to the delicacy of bud and leaflet-laced trees,
the large, shiny or dusty summer leaves are gross.
All these chemicals
in our food -- will grass
grow on our graves?
Quiet lake --
5 or 6 people over there --
A lake, a few bodies (distant) and a poet with nothing to say,
trying to make something out of it, feeling as distant from the
life of the scene as one playing a computer game. The bodies may
as well be "virtual."
In the bridge's shadow,
making out, briefly I see
The puns in this are several. "I see someone's underpass"
refers to a childhood rhyme/song: "I see London, I see France;
I see someone's underpants" - chanted when you get a view of
all or part of said undergarment of a playmate. In this case, the
speaker is making out, so getting a look. Also, he's in the shadow
of a bridge, so near an underpass. Also, he (and other lovers in
the same shadowy area) is making a pass, no doubt a rather "under"
pass. And "briefly" he sees, because briefs are underpants.
The mirror shows me
a figure, the scale a number --
On the scale
a number and, in a row,
ten dumb toes.
Helping with housework --
whew! A man's half hour
is never done!
A black cat
tiptoeing on her
must have left coins in the pants.
The sound of coins rattling in pants as they go round in a washer
or, more likely, a dryer.
The Chinese say,
"Death of a thousand cuts."
"Yard work," says my wife.
won't stop flushing. We'd better
build an ark.
Sex feels good,
but imagine being a tree
breaking out in oranges.
The oranges are fruit, part the sexual apparatus and output
of a tree.
The sun rises and vanishes
into thick air.
Thick enough smog can just about swallow up the sun.
Smart, smiling lady,
waiting with nervous fingers,
your show is slipping.
That is, her chic appearance is undermined by her nervousness,
a variation on "Your slip is showing."
Gulls silent, cloud-guns
hold their fire for the flash
of a white-eyed wave.
Gulls silenced by the on-coming storm, wind high (white-eyed
waves - or white caps), anticipation of thunder and lightning.
Each morning my tongue
wears a gray coat,
The reference is to the rebels (revolting) in gray during the
American civil war (or war between the states, as southerners call
it or war between the conditions, as psychiatrists call it?
Something Came Over Me
She's a temptation
I can't overcome, so I
ask her to come over.
No need to put that odor
in writing. Already
It's in black and white.
Originally it was "in writhing," not "in writing",
a pun to suggest the movement of a skunk's body as he emits his
odor and the response of those who get a whiff, but for so short
a poem, it seemed one piece of word-play - the skunks black and
white coat and my attempt to put it into writing (into black and
white) in this poem - was already too much.
Late March, rain all day,
then blue-gold mild: the sky has
leaked a spring.
A play on "sprung a leak".
Sign of mid-summer:
heart stirs at the first sight
of a Baskin-Robbin.
Something in me,
usually mute, MUST speak:
"Cough Cough," it says.
We call it fast food,
but it's been with me
Easy in, not so easy out.
His smile zig-zags
through the crowd toward us,
a slalom Shalom!
Day after day of dreary drizzle
Spring has sprung
Fame has not changed me,
though I bask in the applause
of future readers.
As I write these lines,
people die. Some people
have no courtesy.
What Buddhists have instead of
It's Channukah, Lady:
I long to light up your
The slightly gross pun here is on labia minora, the inner folds
or flaps of the vagina. The Manorah is the candlestick that holds
9 candles, used during Channukah.
No man is an island.
Even the very old are in
That is, incontinent. (I know YOU got it, but maybe Joe over
there didn't, OK?)
Babies - so detailed!
Women, like Japanese, make
I try to write
articulately. Does my
art tickle you lately?
for a pie.
Who said "easy"?
That is, what's so easy about pie - as in "easy as pie".