pulling legs off bugs,
torturing mox, remorseless
continuum of fun

bank shares are rising
other than for the west bank
morally bankrupt

I.N.G. direct
guy...whenever he says 'nickle
and diming!!' cracks me up.

at first I thought less
of you, but then remembered
all those poor ants

i used to pull legs
off spiders and watch them sit
but I was a kid

seems that in my haste
I did but forget to type
that color *pink* there

flowered prison
(my brother would fling those frogs)
seems so much kinder

a plan's been floated
to pour sea in the niger,
bring in oil tankers

the ladyslipper
had a flower that i made
a prison for frogs

i'd sit by the spring
dip pebbles on a forked twig
all stones were precious

great huntress had I
yapping beagle chasing dreams
Bimbo was her name

i used to pretend
i was an indian brave
moving noiselessly

when i was a child
the forest was my playground
it's been mostly cleared

once all the redwoods
were nearly in my back yard
lived in Eureka

when you're on a roll
you could be most anything
seedy, sweet or smooth

just hit me that you're
gone and that i'm here alone
can't wait 'till thursday

well, if libra could
restore the balance to that
region, it would be

cool...

flying Saturday
triskaidekaphobian
unfortunately

when you're on a roll
no one really counts -- we all
just enjoy the ride

strife on the west bank
israel can send a tank
till george sends a yank

anti-semantics
the pluralist solution :
let there be pieces

pity i can't count
seems my final solution
is short by one peace

way to go there, ash
I must say you have a way
metaphoric puns

aries boweled me
over with advice, on moving
on, stuck in neutral

anti-semantics
pluralist solution
let there be pieces

gutsy move dubya
intestinal fortitude
send "colon" powell

gabbing poets rant
bombs and queens the bitches too
tap upon our keys

high ranking royal
it was time to bury her
a load of old pomp

turn on my tv
and they're still burying her
it's deadly boring

can't believe the news
bombs and hate tear anxious flesh
it must end and end

where does it all go
the bad "poetry" we write
my God, it's all here

queens and rooks take turns
to duck and dive for my king
man, i suck at chess

let's hope the muse guides
me through pub quiz to a win.
After that....strip club?

to be jungian,
she is my bitch, i'm her bitch
i bitch myself out

your muse is a bitch?
Why not make the muse YOUR bitch?
I know it's in you.....

i work for my muse
she can be a bitch sometimes
for instance, today

jesus scott! post
a few bad haiku's why don't you?
How's work anyway?

the garden is fine
what i have a problem with
are the gardeners

who promised you a
garden of eden? live, die,
pity your children

Mesopotamia
A

those fucking bastards
that's all i'm really saying
those fucking bastards

a river of oil
flows through the "cradle of man"
delta omega

queen mum was pickled
in gin for much of her life,
no wonder she smiled

dick chenney's widsom:
"conservation doesn't work"
Earth First, then we leave?

once all the redwoods
have been turned into pulp
i'm guessing we're next

press in collusion
spread official confusion
right-wing illusion

bag full of death threats
bomb under the driver's seat
guilty unpunished

the FBI's lies
are going to bomb out in court
judi bari lives!

the old queen showed us
the secret to a long life:
vast amounts of dough

a useless meeting
but one thing came out of it:
loads of bad haiku!