washwords

I’m all knotted up
Disastrous case of twine flu
The cure: a good yarn

My pal’s back is hurt
Perhaps she has the spine flu
The cure: lay supine

Niece “bucket” age two
no shocker has caught “mine flu”
other tykes: adieu!

Complainin’ and mopey
I have the whine flu fer shure
Cure? methinks WINE flues!

I could go all day but lemme hear yours! leave a comment below

Debate? No debate?
Candidates love and love not
Lets get it started.

Metro whistlers, SHHHH!
Sometimes I wake up grumpy,
sometimes let him sleep

“solved.” without mccain.
it’s raining in washington
since obama left

snowdrifts of paper
email, voice-mail, lists to do
how to shovel out

and yet, even here,
even now, with so much flux
there is peace. in love.

for more Washwords’ (and friends) haikus see Haiku You

I get the Express every day, folded in gloved hand, the Ballston guy hands in syncopated rhythm, “hello, beautiful;thank you darlin, here you go hon,” fwip, fwip, fwip, the papers fly hand to hand to hand. “thank you sir,” I say. every day. in harmony with the clipping shoes, spreading umbrellas, buttoning coats.

[“Stormy Personalities” by Fu Man Jew on flickr]

I take out my metrocard in one hand, folded paper in the other, pull out pen, and begin.

I might flip through the paper – if there’s a picture of the president or news that’s not alarming or mundane, but quickly i get to it: the crossword.

I like the feel of blue marker ink spreading over newsprint, letters into squares, into clues, into words until the grid is complete. I try to do them by the time I reach the office, and definitely by the time I reach home.

Then I send it to recycle bin and wait for morning to begin. again.

words, ritual, crosswords, express, ink, morning

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