Tuesday, November 11, 2014

New York City haikus, vol. 2

From the fall harvest . . .

Wild roses still bloom
on sycamore continents
as November knocks.


All thumbs on I-phone
except when I want to type.
Bee. Ex. Zee. Delete.


Windows flash pumpkin
on high. Whiteface Joker grins.
Wee Batman cowers.


Bruegel’s harvesters,
oblivious on their slope
to our dancing eyes.

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