washwords

i remember you
and the laughs, learning, stretching
i didn’t count then.

smell of hotel, but
I now lived there, two whole days
on nine-eleven.

I don’t remember
how or why i left… and stayed
gone, away, alone.

I only knew: go.
blue hits brown bark , feet concrete
sorry paled, I know.

thought i broke the world
that day. steel spokes, dusty hearts –
that concrete block of ache.

split we must. perhaps.
weren’t ready or able then.
new loves get those selves.

still… sorry i am
pale though it does, i cling. might
you remember me?

for more Washwords’ (and friends) haikus see Haiku You. Sorry all for the long hiatus… I will try to be back more regularly and more cheerily than these hearbreakingly beautiful September days have me today.

I have a lot more to say about “friends” as I enter the brave new social media world, where “friends” on various networks mean wildly different things to different people, where importing your contacts into any new communication service can lead to wildly embarrassing events (Uhh, who are you? Uhh, didn’t we go out once and then you never called?).

But I didn’t want to wait for this post to share this. Read more »