Eat My Haiku

smiles n’ giggles n’ love

mint infused brownies
chocolate smidgen below my eye
smiles n’ giggles n’ love


the (for)giving tree

The forgiveness tree
is treacherous to climb –
wholesome treehouse

Tell me how …

Tell me how god created man and beast,

how he created grass and trees and yeast.


Tell me how the spirit of the wind created

tornado’s, air currents, and breezes that are timid.


Tell me how buddha sought inner peace,

begged for food, and attained nirvana piece by piece.


Tell me how Zeus reigned over the Greeks,

married Hera, and tossed thunderbolt streaks.


Tell me how Vishnu can manifest as any animal form,

ready to help and be kind to others, even if by storm.


Tell me about the evolution of genetics,

how it grew and changed into T-rex.


Tell me all the facts that you know to be true,

for I know nothing about the creation of life and earth.


under my willow tree

My Willow Tree, Rock River, Wisconsin


Coffee house

coffee shop

basement dwelling

sans the mouse.

stacks of books

library shelves:



Basho and Hughes

mentor me, my spirit.

alone, maybe lonely,

maybe not, I don’t know,

but the poet, the poet, the poet

needs space to think



where do you write,

when its time to write,

to be a poet,


with no spite?

I need a place

I love to write.

I claim that to be

under a willow tree.

oh, wait, there

I ponder life

why am I?

So why do I visit the

willow tree,

if it is not there

that I write?

 it is there

I become a poet,

with meaning

my life,

and the color white.

The Rock River II.

I may smell of catfish,

but at least I’m soapy clean –

Bathing in the Rock River

watery coffee

serving watery coffee

green apron, ketchup stains, n’ goo –

cougar on my knee

the rock river

The depth of the rocky river is not imporant. Whether shallow or deep, it simply wants to share its existence, with me, with the weeping willow I sit beneath, with the scaly carp that swims its waters. During spring, when snow melt is heavy, the river selflessly spreads its wealth to the nearby willows and oaks as it floods, it shares itself with the toads and salamanders that need its waters for egg laying. It is not the intelligence of the river that the trees care about, it is the extent to which the river loves its web that makes it so wonderful.

ode to unfettered …. because I just love the blog name :)

Within the maelstrom,

black-eyed by a desire to be loved,

she continually stifled my spirit.

Now she is gone, but I remain here,

unfettered, happy, and able to live.

fish fodder

An Oak Leaf floats down the river, wondering:

why did my limbs abandon me?

I provided them with life, energy,

sugars from my own cells,

I gave them everything I had to offer,

asking for nothing, but to be held.

But these waters, in return, give naught,

and soon my existence will succumb

and I will be merely fish fodder.

along the road

J-Dog and I (without you)

whimpering along the road –

a couple of sad bitches

on perspective

she asked, “what do you miss about hell?”

teeth clink like iced, steel cogs –

lonely and cloth-less on the tundra

play a game with me :)

Here is a game that a friend and I began a long time ago.. you randomly pick letters, and then use them as an acronym to write a poem…. i’ll call it acropoetry


here was some random letters I just happened to hit on the keyboard without looking: stuvwza



my poem:

savanna tigers usurp.

viable, wandering zebra’s aware.


anybody else want to play? lol

that makes me sad

she left me because I was depressed.

that makes me sad.

memories fade

memories of depression fade,

but the depression remains.

the purging

Instead of a destructive, emotional implosion,

I expunge the remaining sadness.

I lie gazing at the brown, stained ceiling,

dirty paint chips peeling in random splotches;

Fan blades amalgamate the blood spatter

its expression a swirling, spiraling strawberry cone.

Unplanned, I purge and laugh hysterically

at life’s misfortunes.  I’ve missed my jiggling belly,

smiling, and happiness, and so I meditate:

my essence is everlasting and intact; it will be okay.


Blood flows down her nose

steel boots crunch his throaty cough

she stabs till he’s done

I don’t trust my nitrogen molecule

My thoughts are like a molecule of nitrogen.

It might spend some time in the soil,

and then be converted to a snails chitin,

or it might float around aimlessly in the atmosphere.

I’m not sure where I will find my little ephemeral buddy,

or what it will even look like. In fact, I don’t even depend

on him having any form at all; I simply know that he exists.


I don’t trust my nitrogen molecule. He sometimes tells me he is going to Florida,

but then makes a beeline for California, concealing himself as jet fuel.

Once, he called me from jail, telling me he needed to get bailed out.

But that was also a lie.  To know the truth of  my nitrogen molecule,

I need to catch him when his guard is down, and bring him to my favorite

analytical chemist to test his conformation. But even then, he may just swim away,

and escape in a new and unrecognized form.

bicycle dust

Thoughts are dust trailing

a bicycle. Beliefs are

cracks within the road.


You There, By the Raunchy Rocks!

Wipe my Blood off your Fat Lips

before it is wasted on your dirty chin!

Do not hide from me, YOU are the one

that turned me into this repressed Killer.

We must return to the truth, soulbound,

quaffing beakers of our blood, together.

I’m not a shaman

I’m not a shaman –

If you also need healing,

let’s hold each other.