Haiku for 2016

Semi-political, semi-personal, free associative and unrevised, following the 5-7-5 rule even though I KNOW THAT’S NOT A TRANSLATABLE THING so I don’t need to talk about it because I get it, really, I do. Now show me yours.

2016 by the Month


First deaths of the year

drew a spine through the mountains,

north to south. And back.


Women who bleed wrong

should be punished, shouldn’t drink.

Light returns on time.


Too warm too soon and

the DNC. I always said

math doesn’t matter.


The only flower

that blooms this month is purple.

It’s early, and yet…


Something will always

find a way to grow. Before

burning there is always warmth.


The dark can’t touch us

here. But light shows the shadows:

a month of rainbows.


Everything that sits

still grows mold. Every moving

thing is a mirror.


Each vein broken open

is a problem to be solved.

Each mile a lesson.


What if those who leave

don’t come back? What if we don’t

let them fly at all?


Ninety-two years and

she still says it’s a man’s job.

She doesn’t say why.


Counting minutes, votes.

“November is about loss,”

I was told/I said.


American roads

tell you there’s something to go

back to, till there’s not.

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