June 23 in Haiku

Only in LA?
Strappy silver platform shoes
as garden decor.

After fourteen days
of leaden skies, cloud cover,
gloom, the sun comes out.

The mushroom ragout’s
secret ingredient is
wedge of Toblerone.

The smallest bird swoops
in an arc, back and forth, then
rises, rises. Gone.

She begs with brown eyes,
an occasional paw swipe.
Sweet and persistent.

In the wee hours,
Lila hops up and joins me.
An honor I’m told.

Once nut hulls rained down
on my head. Another time
raven swooped so close.

(Billy: you better believe they do it on purpose).

A pleine air painter,
boyfriend posed in the shrubs. “May
I?” He nods. “Fauvist!”

Four Travel Haiku

The worst gate ever.
Ten seats. Four speakers. What? What?
Six minutes to board.

A nun. A family
wearing crocs. Yoga pants and
bare midriffs galore.

Curly hair. A snot
rag wadded up. Goopy snorts.
Please, God, not near me.

Seeing the tall thin
Black man exit first class when
I’d thought him homeless.

Grapefruit, orange, dill,
ginger, salmon, and snap peas.
A nice departure.

Scrap of Dan’s pj’s
Square of Mom’s wool challis scarf
Strip of indigo

The clematis vine
twines upward on the lattice.
One perfect flower.

I wished my zoom friends
could hear the growling thunder,
See the trees backlit.

Two hens, one tom, live.
The flicker dead in the road.
Men tamping asphalt.

I get mullion, toile,
and priapi, but bundt? Do
they never eat cake?

6/19 (two)
Sunday was a blur
I really like it like that.
No apology.

I knew the Haitian
boy, so newly here, would love
the plastic monkey!

The balloon arches
grace the front doors of the school.
The last day is near.

I wrote for hours
almost all of it about
one of my front teeth.

They run out of air
today. One wife’s forebears are
waiting in the wreck.

Launching off the bed
to bark at the front window.
Who is it this time?

The boys raise their hands
at the same time. “Revolt!”
they holler, and smile.

(This came to me as I woke before I’d heard the news about Prighozin).

I am happy. I
am victorious. I’m loved.
Why not say these things?

A stately linden
shades the cop at the detour
while he does nothing.

Finn walked in a heel.
A heel! To get under my
umbrella. Went back.

Along the wood pile,
I scoop catalpa blossoms.
Yellow jacket stings.

Everyone who came
later has emerged and left.
What is going on?

White supremacy.
Partisan hacks, too good a
term. Going backward.

11 thoughts on “June 23 in Haiku

  1. Anonymous

    Undescribingly creative, multi-faceted, engaging. It feels holy to share your observations of the world. I am held in their uniqueness. You are blessed with the craft and ability to express the essence of your moments in a day, a life.

  2. Laura

    I always enjoy your posts, Dee. Your art is always beautiful and intriguing. I like your idea about haiku as journal! I think I will steal it, if you don’t mind. I don’t know why, but I can never remember if it’s 5-7-5, or 7-5-7! I might switch back and forth, just making sure it’s always 17 syllables–maybe in one line. Here’s one for you:

    Curious timing
    Of your haiku of ‘revolt’,
    Before actual.

    Thank you!

    1. deemallon Post author

      Oh go for it (I use 5/7/5 — with occasional miscounts). It was hardly my idea. I think as a fellow creative, you’ll enjoy how brief and episodic the writing is. NOTHIng like weaving a tapestry or even, writing a different kind of poem.

  3. Liz A

    so sorry to read about the Newton tragedy in the NYT … it’s never good when national media report on one’s hometown …

    as for the month-long post … I do hope these continue … the pairings of imagery and haiku are especially intriguing

    1. deemallon Post author

      I was in that neighborhood dropping groceries at a parking lot food pantry almost simultaneously with the crimes. Creeped me right out. He worked at Whole Foods. Bipolar went off his meds.


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