Ah, to hell with it
Time causes the depression
The grass is the cure

Low serotonin
Smoking weed prevents REM sleep
Depression follows

Death is closest when...
I'm in my R.E.M.!
resurrect again?

after the big heat
the gentle patter of rain
on crispy brown grass

Summer comes with time
to the coldest valley and
to the wounded heart.

She discovered me
and groaned long into the night.
I have a big nob.

She's dissapointed
Her dreams are unsatisfied
I have a small nob

My lines were erased
My haikus were not that bad
I want to kill you

damn sciatica
like so many other things
a pain in the arse

Dark reflected sky
Snow eagerly hugs the ground
Small stream pulls my thoughts

Loved the photographs
Highly evocative scenes
Small stream caught my eye

The Aussies feel heat
Meanwhile, in the north we
are having some fun

More Crow Indian Stabs at Haiku


I see September's
oranges, reds and browns, painting
tanned valleys and hills


My bedroom window,
touched by December's sunlight,
dribbles melted ice


We laughed together
when our only baby son
spoke his first Crow words

3 Crow Indian Stabs at Haiku

1

A soft, white snowflake
landed on my outstretched palm,
then quickly melted.

2

A rainbow hovered,
below the darkened Big Horns
when it quit raining.

3

Outside my sweat lodge,
fire enters rocks brought from
a distant mountain

Gray day at the beach
Wind swept sand amid empty trees-
That child is all smiles.

Damn that's hot, Sydney
One hundred-twelve Farenheit*
Heat stroke ain't no joke

*Rounded upward, naturally

December is gone
January has come to shore-
No robbins in sight.

Annue' Nouveau
Think I'll study French this year
Just made that shit up

The powdered goodies
Spending money underground
Fun and dangerous.

Phencyclidine dreams
Smoking the dust of angels
Then ... police restraints

Yellow is the box
Lying empty on the floor-
Red ribbon about.

forty-four point two
it's our new year's day record
just how hot is that ?

The four words I long
to hear, although he's gone now:
"Fetch, my oboe, son."

Eight Six Seven Five
Three O Ni-eee-ine (repeat)
That's Jenny's number

A vow to bludgeon
All advancing curmudgeon
Pardon my dudgeon

forty three degrees
the christmas tree is wilting
summer down under

A happy new year?
Hope its better than the last
Each year just gets worse
*
Each year I just hope
Please let it change for the best
I can

Small gusts of light snow
False angels float on the winds
Idly drifting

Snow falls upon branch
Pleasant walk through the forrest
Living off the grid

Welcome Welsh poet.
Echo on. Show us again
He who seeks rest finds boredom.

Grotesque reverie
Reverant grotesquerie
No solace, I flee

Call the mortician
My blood alcohol content
Approaching fatal

Perpetual frauds:
Laissez-faire economy
And the virgin birth

my awesome future
good-bye two thousand and
five
hello the next day

Your new year comes soon
My Julian Calender
Doth beg to differ

The sea rushes in,
rises, takes a bite and chokes
on his syllable.

Good-bye holidays
Eleven months of freedom
Damn I hate egg nog

he who cuts himself
while shaving without lather
is a bloody fool

The echo returns.
"Here I am, you sent for me",
returns the echo.

It

Bats in a church yard
sing of blindness to the night.
Who knows our vision?

viagra for surf
just something to make it swell
and we'll get all wet

A timeless oak gazes
calmly from its being as
the World grows younger.

What a gay Christmas!
a belly full of turkey,
bowel filled with seed.

the christmass season
a time of love and tollerance
brings out hidden hate

this internet website
it rules a lot of ass
spank my bottom

Want to know only thing that God laughs at?
Mankind, and thier plans for the futer

there's a bit of pig
bread and salads and then
icecreams made by mum

a bucket of prawns
and a few dozen oysters
no turkey in sight

stanta is a whore
his pimps are department stores
happy xmas all