2024 - The Cracked Door

12/29/24 Haiku for the Day

I must pay my dues
To the real civilizers
Of this world: the ants.

Blast from the Past:

If we are the ants
How do we reach up above
And taste the honeydew?

The ozone layer
Torn cesarean section
That the gods peer through

Blast from the Past:

A prairie full of streams,
Flowers, birds, snakes, and bushes.
Now a factory

This poem didn’t
Have time for
The endless merchants,
Those too poor to leave,
All of the beggars,
Or the many maids
Cleaning up after we had gone

Blast from the Past:

Bureaucrat capitalists:
Arriving to save the day
Perfectly “neutral”

I thrive in the place
That you have called a wasteland,
Beyond your confines

Blast from the Past:

I hope you can stay strong
In your fake empire
Atop your fortress of loneliness

Hair stood up, chapped lips,
Foggy brain, drooped eyes, parched throat,
Itchy crotch, moist socks

Posthumous title: Several Days in International Airports

Blast from the Past:

Lines of bright roads on
The dark landscape, like the veins
Of their society