[A bit more housekeeping: all of the old haiku that lived in my sidebar. I'd given up on these even before switching to this new site, but would like to keep the record of them nonetheless.]
condensation formed on my air conditioner falls like summer rain
Te o uteba kodama ni akuru natsu no tsuki - Basho
[I clap my hands dawning in the echo the summer moon]
“Mayonaka ya Furikawari taru Ama-no-gawa” - Ransetsu
["The dead of night. Behold the Milky Way Its situation is entirely changed."]
“A lightning flash: between the forest trees I have seen water.” - Masaoka Shiki
as spring flowers bloom a time in my own life too for new beginnings
early morning flight en route to Park City for Sundance yet again
not Jewish new year but still a needed time for cheshbon hanefesh
the first cold shower even the monkey seems to want a little coat of straw - Basho
trees release fall leaves then through quiet months rebuild to spring beginnings
working round the clock principal photography creeps up day by day
still barely springtime yet sun beats hard as summer on midtown lunch crowds
three years of haiku have I started to run out of topic ideas?
a b c d e f g h i j k l m n o p q
done with jet-setting now en route to JFK glad to come back home
the blog lies fallow victim of cyan’s success and my lack of time
so much work to do yet too sick with winter flu to be productive
one step into the water, then one step more; soon we’re over our heads
last autumn leaves fall onto new york winter streets as cold rain drizzles
how i love you Jess totally adorable yet totally nuts
jessica tells me it’s time to change the haiku; my last was ‘whiny’
jessica tells me it’s time to change the haiku; my last was ‘whiny’
like an idiot re-sprained my ankle again; it’s back to crutches
now a married man my life goes on pretty much the same as before
at just past midnight i awake as, in her sleep Jess punches me, hard.
twenty nine years and still no fucking clue about what’s going on here
hot as a sauna muggy summer air descends on Manhattan streets
with jess out of town I revert to single life; will my liver hold?
memorial day new york’s pasty thighs first see the cruel light of day
note to self: next time, please, don’t even think about opening a gym
brutal hangover from drinks at Bungalow 8 much too old for this
passover begins as do intense cravings for all carbohydrates
burning the candle at both ends, I can barely keep my eyes open
fundraising again why did I sign up to be an entrepreneur?
on a plane again feeling thankful I’m not a traveling salesman
so much travel planned by month’s end how will I still recognize our bed?
back to the office; after one day, how am I already behind?
ball drops in Times Square as on my nearby corner new year swings to life
snow melts to puddle, tracked by boot from city streets, on the subway floor
first winter snowfall whitens dirty New York streets; I trudge towards home
five syllables here next seven more on this line then one final five
amtrak to new york brown leaves still cling to fall trees painting the window
still shopping for rings, counting down to question pop, surprisingly zen.
fundraising again for Cyan; this is when I wish for a trust fund
No time for blogging. No time, in fact, for even this haiku column.
Cool spring showers fall washing clean the city streets slowly, the sun sets
spring hyacinth buds on my windowsill defy dark storm clouds outside
first snowflakes falling outside cool office windows, gusts of winter air
Quiet apartment, windows closed against fall air, newly leafless streets.
late summer shower gives way to gentle moonlight; leaves begin to turn
On this Friday night your ass damn better be at Oh in Ohio
quiet June morning winding paths through Central Park dappled with sunlight
a Sunday morning light streams in through my window I dream, half awake
on my window ledge small white seagull considers the Hudson nearby
cloudy spring morning; I lie half awake in bed, stare out the window.
New striped boxer briefs will tonight be field tested in NYC bars
with so much to do i sit and stare at my list unsure where to start
after a few drinks it seems I can no longer count syllables
With younger brother in town, my liver is sure to greatly suffer
Spring begins to creep back onto streets where winter never took full root
Twenty-three inches unceremoniously dumped onto our streets.
Holy fucking shit big things brewing with Cyan; this all just might work.
Fundraising again, constant toll of startup life. Buddy, spare a dime?
New York’s winter air swirls unseasonably warm in through my window.
Back in NYC, catching up on piles of work, back to blogging soon.
Rolling green duffle packed full to seams near bursting for trip to Sundance
Ode to MLK: the civil rights stuff was good but the day off rocks.
Do you mind if I, instead of going to work, just go back to bed?
Sitting at my desk, buried under piles of work like winter snowdrifts.
Really, is there a better appetizer than pigs in a blanket?
A brand new side-blog wherein I self-aggrandize in perfect haiku