Haiku 365: July

#184: 7/1/2015
Mozart pirouettes,
singing like bells. Beethoven
smashes and sinks deep.

#185: 7/2/2015
Lonely apple tree
stands, spine erect, while two more
bend like verdant crones.

#186: 7/6/2015
Young Sylvia Plath
smiling in Paris, as if
burdenless and free.

#187: 7/6/2015
The editor must
cultivate wild text, tending
jungles like gardens.

#188: 7/6/2015
Sirens caterwaul
and fade; my own life goes on,
glib, without crisis.

#189: 7/6/2015
To bed and to rise,
each day, with my wife. Fortune
radiates like stars.

#190: 7/7/2015
See the rains gather,
assembling as for council:
they judge, then disperse.

#191: 7/8/2015
Grand spiderless Web,
linking eyes to eyes, what prey
will you snare tonight?

#192: 7/12/2015
Old friend on Facebook.
What paths have you taken for
these decades apart?

#193: 7/12/2015
Handwritten letters,
inefficiently charming,
back and forth and back.

#194: 7/12/2015
This “gluten-free beer” –
gluten-free, I understand.
Are you sure it’s beer?

#195: 7/12/2015
Talk to us, Pluto.
Grant us your deep-space wisdom.
Teach us how to chill.

#196: 7/14/2015
Quiet streets are like
quiet lives, pensive and poised
to find the freeway.

#197: 7/14/2015
Tower, Hermit, Fool,
Emperor, Death, Justice, Moon:
what sayeth the cards?

#198: 7/15/2015
One slim rainless sky
beams triumphantly, and then
slinks back into gray.

#199: 7/16/2015
New book, virgin draft,
innocent of revision,
clean and paper-white.

#200: 7/17/2015
Sliver of lightning
slices gray paper heaven
like a razor-flash.

#201: 7/19/2015
Two cups of coffee
before speaking words aloud.
One thing at a time.

#202: 7/19/2015
Dusty oasis
glitters like frigid lightning,
sapphire on the sand.

#203: 7/20/2015
Verses and chapters
build a tower to heaven
strong with many tongues.

#204: 7/21/2015
Sunlight in my eyes.
Bright and dark blind equally.
Only gray can see.

#205: 7/22/2015
Balance in all things;
failing that, hearts are better
heavy than empty.

#206: 7/23/2015
Dinner with Betsy
and friends comes to a close: now,
hand in hand, alone.

#207: 7/24/2015
Writing a novel
is lonely symbiosis,
author and the world.

#208: 7/27/2015
Maps are devices
for turning cities to dots.
Travel turns them back.

#209: 7/27/2015
Tears are contagious;
when our basement pipe joints weep,
why then, so do we.

#210: 7/27/2015
What sage inventor
first melded PB and J?
Build him a statue.

#211: 7/28/2015
Pixels from Pluto,
gossipy tweets, alike are
Turing’s legacy.

#212: 7/29/2015
Plaintive beeping of
toaster oven; its sole job,
only song it knows.

#213: 7/30/2015
Secret nighttime talks:
words land softly on pillows,
hidden by darkness.

#214: 8/1/2015
Scrabble fast and loose:
bingo’s automatic win,
“wubo” is a word.

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