Ice Storm

You are the ice storm of my heart
and I dodge your rattling branches
as gusts of vicious wind fling me
into the maelstrom of your desire
and someday I shall slip upon your sidewalks
and shake my fist at the recklessness of your drivers
as you cover everything with diamonds
that are really quite annoying for several days afterwards

The Scent of Cinnamon

You are the scent of cinnamon
you sultry wrench
the wrong word of all wrong words
BREAK
oh my diamond
LOSE
oh my porcupine
you are the end of the Imogens
the reason for the existence
of the ukulele
the ukulele
of doom

Sporadic

The poems
are
sporadic
are

sporadic

are

not in the

 

right place

right
time

the

 

poems are

 

sporadic
are sporadic
are

nomadic

into sporads peering

sporaticus
to
the
end
of

 

the

 

 

poem

You Are Knocking on My

you are knocking on my
and you are stealing the
from the
and when your
into the
you ask
does it
does it
does it
why does it
how does it
and then
and she
and no one
after the end of the

Life Is a Series of Doorways, and That’s Important

You keep choosing the wrong doorways
even though you should really know better
and we are just standing here watching you do it
and everybody is pointing and laughing
since it’s very clear to everyone but you
that you should have taken the left doorway seventeen years ago
but you chose the one on the right
and ever since then
your life has been a series of increasingly wrong decisions
so good luck with everything
as I hope you are aware
that none of your choices can ever be right

Triangular

One is for the puppets
hanging by their strings

Two is for the driveways
without cars in them

Three is for the pineapple
of course

Now let’s
get started

Into the Sparkling Darkness

We are puzzled by
the darkness sparkles
but willing to accept them
for the sake
of the metaphor

Mother of Dinglehoppers

I am the Mother of Dinglehoppers
and I and my dinglehoppers
will take the throne
because of destiny
and because this
is the dinglehopper way
so cower
mortals
cower
before me
and my dinglehoppers
and your destiny
may be almost as awesome
as ours

The Fun Bit Is Yet to Come

The fun bit is yet to come
after the hard bit
and the scary bit
and the bit with the screaming and the running and Michelle hiding in the outhouse with the axe
but the fun bit will happen
yes it will
and the other bits
will all have been worth it

Terrible

I am terrible at everything
especially at writing this haiku
which has way too many syllables
and an extra line