life in haiku

Night, and the moon!
My neighbor, playing on his flute -
out of tune!

Friday night: the streetlight was shining in the window and Beefcake the oversized goldfish roots around in the gravel of his fishtank keeping me awake.
Saturday morning: the sound of a truck lumbering up the street, the sound of a diesel engine idling for half an hour, the familiar sounds of someone moving. Much to my surprise, my neighbor with the cute dogs is moving out at 7:30 AM on a Saturday morning. As tired and sick as I am, I roll over and go back to sleep. I'm that tired.

Fallen sick on a journey,
In dreams I run wildly
Over a withered moor

I've been sick since last Wednesday so life's been pretty low-key around here. I haven't been doing anything beyond what's absolutely necessary. Occasionally there's a break in the clouds; I should be out in the street watching the leaves turn red and yellow and orange. Yet, all I feel like doing is laying around and sleeping as much as possible. My dreams are wild and feverish, no doubt enhanced by all the cold medications I'm on. Cough syrup is yummy. I haven't had caffeine in forever.

The winds that blows -
ask them, which leaf on the tree
will be next to go

While I've been too busy to notice, all the trees in town have quietly gone about their business behind my back turning a variety of beautiful fiery shades. I regret deeply that I've been too busy to notice them. By the time I get a free moment and pull my head up out of the books for air, no doubt they'll be long gone, wherever it is that leaves go to die quietly.

Clouds appear
and bring to men a chance to rest
from looking at the moon

It's been raining. Raining alot. Lots of rain. Yep. I'm kind of okay with it, since I'm laying low anyway, it gives me a chance to rest, without feeling guilty in any way. The only thing I'm probably missing is the opportunity to be cold and wet. I'll have plenty more chances for that--this is Portland, after all.

Night; and once again,
the while I wait for you, cold wind
turns into rain

Going to school, darkness. Coming home, darkness. It's that time again, we're well on the way to winter and the familiar routine of waiting for rides or the bus out in the elements. Waiting for the bus in the cold and rain is even less fun than it sounds, trust me.

Poems from Haiku for People