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Michael Peter Garofalo's Haiku
A
wet pile
of dead doves -
Labor Day sports.
a
shallow puddle
in the slowly drying ditch -
a flopping fish
campus
clarion
keeps the pace for the place
time after time
Clear-cut
-----------------------------sunburnt shrubs, oozing stumps,
raw bulldozer
ruts ::::::::::::::
Daylight
peeking in
through the parted window blinds;
I pull up my pants.
eyes
horizontal
nose vertical;
a mind stood up
side
down
From
the mountain's breast
Mill Creek, Deer Creek, Battle Creek flow ....
Feeding
crops below.
full
of seeds
sunflowers
face the earth
I
caught my step;
Stopped, reared back, eyes stuck!
The snake was still.
Lightening
bolts:
cutting purple thunderclouds
covering blue mountains.
morning
coffee sans sugar
sipped in silence -
still her cold shoulder
open
gate
saluting
daybreak
put
away the tent.
my friend died.
why bother camping lakeside.
Snarling
heat
Refusing to retreat -
Dog Days
suddenly
she
sneezed
into the moonflower
The
fifteenth foul fart
rumbled down my bloated gut -
chewed chili beans.
Withered
vines,
crispy leaves -
summertime leftovers.