Some crap I made up wandering through galleries in the Chicago Arts District:

More Art Upstairs

Under the barrel-vault sky
walks a man with velvet shoes.
"Lo te gusto' ?"
He passes red balloons.

There is some I'm leaving out...
Of strings and stares
and the bottlecap-moon.
And a broad shouldered girl
with her laquered guitar
come correctlly, amble past, and leave soon.

A poem texted to me by a friend:


I don't dare ask the poet
her inspiration.
Every drop of perspiration.
A moment's lust-
all to trust
ink. Paper
isn't as telling.
Words show hesitation.

Here is one, the result of boredom in my Russian Lit. class. Not a haiku, but still:

Art...inevitably.
Soft sacred optimism.
Tart and lucid,
Calls and re-calls
beauty
Look! Despair. Indulge.

Another walking home haiku:


House with a blue door,
Sidewalk sanctuary. Peace.
Presence. Walking home.

Here is a haiku I composed walking to work in the cold on Thursday...

Cold February
Cannot touch me: warm,
confessed, love junkie.

"That was a bold comma!"
Inspired by Emmalyn Gennis

Bold comma planted
mid-phrase demands, pause, take in
breath, begin again.

In case anyone ever reads this, Ahoy from the whaleship Essex. I am busy at University of Chicago and am taking Arabic, Chemistry, Math, and a class called reading cultures. The Whaleship Essex is what my roommates and I have dubbed our dorm.

Here is a masterful haiku and the story that accompanies it. Story and Haiku are the work of my uncle Matt.

This is a haiku that I wrote after visiting the local Krispy Kreme
donut factory. I was enthralled with the wonderfully complex
machinery involved in making the donuts, but was shocked when I
witnessed a malfunction with the equipment that resulted in the
destruction of the donuts which I had watched being born for the
previous 30 minutes. The accident involved a misaligned donut guide
in the "grease river" that caused all the donuts to pile up and mangle
in a massive heap. My companion PJ could only mutter "Oh the
humanity...", and I was inspired to write a haiku.

Krispy Haiku:

Conscript confections
Advancing in formation
Sweet fatty carnage

To watch all the night
go by under the broad, black,
boundless summer sky.

Two pages more cast
Bright sunshine on this story
As the tulips fade.

Page 3

Show clocks again, several hours later.

Second mailwoman enters carrying satchel and mail tub.
Nametag reads “Bea”Bea: “Lane?”
Lane (unseen): “Hi, Bea! I’ve got everything sorted, but hardly anyone has come by.”

Bea hands bundle to Lane.
Bea: “I’ll do grocery coupons, you do missing persons.”

Lane’s hand holding “Have you seen me?” card.
Lane (thinking): How would I know?

Two women in front of wall of PO boxes.

Page 4
Bea holds up postcard she has pulled from mail bag.
Bea: “Lane, look at this!”

They look at the front of postcard then turn it over.

Back of Postcard:
“What a fascinating place! This postcard truly does not do it justice. I may really have found something here, time will tell, but the change in scenery has worked wonders for my spirit. Maybe all I needed was a break from the monotony of seeing the same faces day after day. Will write soon, M.

Bea stares skeptically at Lane.
Bea: “What a fool. Postcards always tell the same story. Someone leaves home and thinks he’s stumbled on the meaning of life the minute he steps off the airplane. If he stayed long enough he would get bored, even in “paradise.” ”

Lane stands still thinking as Bea returns to work.
Lane: “Do you ever watch when someone opens a mailbox?”

Lane goes back to delivering mail without an answer from Bea.
Lane: “It’s just that the box opens so briefly and you really don’t see enough of the person to know who they are. From back here, every one of these people is just a pair of eyes.”

Bea is wondering why she should give a hoot.
Bea: “What’s your point?”
Lane: “Do you think that’s what people like M. get tired of, the staggering anonymity of a world full of people?”
Bea: “Sure, Lane, it’s called narcissism.”