crickets in midday
under the kiss of autumn
searching for last love
.
2008-09-17
2008-04-03
There is a corner table at the Café Pick Me Up, made from a sewing machine cabinet. And there’s a little hinged door on the front of that cabinet, for storing bobbins and needles, I suppose. When I sit there, I put a haiku in that compartment, written at that moment on a small piece of paper. I usually never see it again. Sometimes it’s weeks before I’m at that table again.
There is sand in there and bits of grass - how that got in there I wonder. Sometimes there are gum wrappers.
Because no one cleans out the little compartment, when a poem disappears, I imagine someone liked it enough to want to take it with them. That is fine with me. The poem is a gift to whoever wants it.
The other day, I put this one in there:
Horses ride bareback
But they do not have nightmares
‘till they fall asleep
When I checked in the compartment a week or so later, I found two more little poems on the paper I put mine on. Here they are:
Gods & Mowhawks. Coffee
stained souls. All fair
creatures love at destiny’s gate.
Destiny’s sleep finds
Subtitles
Underlining the lying --
Under
One’s slumber, infinite.
I was pretty impressed.
I took those poems and left another. When I returned a few days later, that poem was gone, and another poem of sorts was there in its place:
I FOLLOWED YOU
ALL THE WAY HOME
LAST NIGHT
YOUR SO PRETTY
I never go to the Pick Me Up at night, so I assume this one was meant for someone else, someone who may have eventually found the literature intended for her. I left it in the compartment.
There is sand in there and bits of grass - how that got in there I wonder. Sometimes there are gum wrappers.
Because no one cleans out the little compartment, when a poem disappears, I imagine someone liked it enough to want to take it with them. That is fine with me. The poem is a gift to whoever wants it.
The other day, I put this one in there:
Horses ride bareback
But they do not have nightmares
‘till they fall asleep
When I checked in the compartment a week or so later, I found two more little poems on the paper I put mine on. Here they are:
Gods & Mowhawks. Coffee
stained souls. All fair
creatures love at destiny’s gate.
Destiny’s sleep finds
Subtitles
Underlining the lying --
Under
One’s slumber, infinite.
I was pretty impressed.
I took those poems and left another. When I returned a few days later, that poem was gone, and another poem of sorts was there in its place:
I FOLLOWED YOU
ALL THE WAY HOME
LAST NIGHT
YOUR SO PRETTY
I never go to the Pick Me Up at night, so I assume this one was meant for someone else, someone who may have eventually found the literature intended for her. I left it in the compartment.
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2004-10-20
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