SHORT AVENUE KIND OF HAIKU

Across the street

a child and her father

are framed by a doorway briefly

In a dance of evening

before bedtime

Culver City, Calif

1966

Not a haiku, except of the Short Avenue kind.

KITCHEN ARCHEOLOGIST

I cleaned the kitchen

but it was more like an archeological dig

with emotional artifacts in each stratum

Whose fork? An apron from...

I can’t remember,

Whose thyme?

Burst Perrier in the freezer, yes

I remember,

stains on the stove,

an aphrodisiac feast perhaps

Can I date, sort and separate them

When strata sometimes merge

and this fossilized dip

with cryptic potato chip markings

could have served any party

any lover’s domestic whim?

Here’s a clue, yes

her dish,

a sales tag from an Akron afternoon,

Idyllic I remember

for that sort of afternoon

There’s a room off the kitchen

Filled now with junk

I could put my collection there

tagged and properly preserved

And I could visit

on Akron afternoons

Venice, Calif.
1971

Akron was a store in southern California, now defunct. Like Pier One, more or less.

NO LESS THAN

No less than the fat young woman

begging change at the 7-11,

a tattooed blue heart on her ankle

in the scheme of things

she must be included

Easy for me

bent liberal, weepy

So what about Jowls, the world eater?

Mercedes screamer?

what about him on his cellular phone?

in the scheme of things

he must be included

And the svelte young woman in her 730i

weeping at nothing, everything

coiffed,

frozen,

mid-block?

consider her no less in the scheme of things

embrace her no less in the scheme of things

Hard for me

bent cold, hostile

Still,

I help her to the curb

where she sits

lost in the scheme of things

just like the rest of us

no less than lost

in the scheme

of things

Studio City, Calif.
1987

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