[A bit more housekeeping: all of the old haiku that lived in my sidebar. I’d given up on these even before switching to this new site, but would like to keep the record of them nonetheless.]
condensation formed
on my air conditioner
falls like summer rain
Te o uteba
kodama ni akuru
natsu no tsuki
– Basho
[I clap my hands
dawning in the echo
the summer moon]
“Mayonaka ya
Furikawari taru
Ama-no-gawa”
– Ransetsu
[“The dead of night.
Behold the Milky Way
Its situation is entirely changed.”]
“A lightning flash:
between the forest trees
I have seen water.”
– Masaoka Shiki
as spring flowers bloom
a time in my own life too
for new beginnings
early morning flight
en route to Park City for
Sundance yet again
not Jewish new year
but still a needed time for
cheshbon hanefesh
the first cold shower
even the monkey seems to want
a little coat of straw
– Basho
trees release fall leaves
then through quiet months rebuild
to spring beginnings
working round the clock
principal photography
creeps up day by day
still barely springtime
yet sun beats hard as summer
on midtown lunch crowds
three years of haiku
have I started to run out
of topic ideas?
a b c d e
f g h i j k l
m n o p q
done with jet-setting
now en route to JFK
glad to come back home
the blog lies fallow
victim of cyan’s success
and my lack of time
so much work to do
yet too sick with winter flu
to be productive
one step into the
water, then one step more; soon
we’re over our heads
last autumn leaves fall
onto new york winter streets
as cold rain drizzles
how i love you Jess
totally adorable
yet totally nuts
jessica tells me
it’s time to change the haiku;
my last was ‘whiny’
jessica tells me
it’s time to change the haiku;
my last was ‘whiny’
like an idiot
re-sprained my ankle again;
it’s back to crutches
now a married man
my life goes on pretty much
the same as before
at just past midnight
i awake as, in her sleep
Jess punches me, hard.
twenty nine years and
still no fucking clue about
what’s going on here
hot as a sauna
muggy summer air descends
on Manhattan streets
with jess out of town
I revert to single life;
will my liver hold?
memorial day
new york’s pasty thighs first see
the cruel light of day
note to self: next time,
please, don’t even think about
opening a gym
brutal hangover
from drinks at Bungalow 8
much too old for this
passover begins
as do intense cravings for
all carbohydrates
burning the candle
at both ends, I can barely
keep my eyes open
fundraising again
why did I sign up to be
an entrepreneur?
on a plane again
feeling thankful I’m not a
traveling salesman
so much travel planned
by month’s end how will I still
recognize our bed?
back to the office;
after one day, how am I
already behind?
ball drops in Times Square
as on my nearby corner
new year swings to life
snow melts to puddle,
tracked by boot from city streets,
on the subway floor
first winter snowfall
whitens dirty New York streets;
I trudge towards home
five syllables here
next seven more on this line
then one final five
amtrak to new york
brown leaves still cling to fall trees
painting the window
still shopping for rings,
counting down to question pop,
surprisingly zen.
fundraising again
for Cyan; this is when I
wish for a trust fund
No time for blogging.
No time, in fact, for even
this haiku column.
Cool spring showers fall
washing clean the city streets
slowly, the sun sets
spring hyacinth buds
on my windowsill defy
dark storm clouds outside
first snowflakes falling
outside cool office windows,
gusts of winter air
Quiet apartment,
windows closed against fall air,
newly leafless streets.
late summer shower
gives way to gentle moonlight;
leaves begin to turn
On this Friday night
your ass damn better be at
Oh in Ohio
quiet June morning
winding paths through Central Park
dappled with sunlight
a Sunday morning
light streams in through my window
I dream, half awake
on my window ledge
small white seagull considers
the Hudson nearby
cloudy spring morning;
I lie half awake in bed,
stare out the window.
New striped boxer briefs
will tonight be field tested
in NYC bars
with so much to do
i sit and stare at my list
unsure where to start
after a few drinks
it seems I can no longer
count syllables
With younger brother
in town, my liver is sure
to greatly suffer
Spring begins to creep
back onto streets where winter
never took full root
Twenty-three inches
unceremoniously
dumped onto our streets.
Holy fucking shit
big things brewing with Cyan;
this all just might work.
Fundraising again,
constant toll of startup life.
Buddy, spare a dime?
New York’s winter air
swirls unseasonably warm
in through my window.
Back in NYC,
catching up on piles of work,
back to blogging soon.
Rolling green duffle
packed full to seams near bursting
for trip to Sundance
Ode to MLK:
the civil rights stuff was good
but the day off rocks.
Do you mind if I,
instead of going to work,
just go back to bed?
Sitting at my desk,
buried under piles of work
like winter snowdrifts.
Really, is there a
better appetizer than
pigs in a blanket?
A brand new side-blog
wherein I self-aggrandize
in perfect haiku