Friday, February 4, 2011

Jack Kerouac | American Haiku



Early morning yellow flowers,
thinking about
the drunkards of Mexico.
 
No telegram today
only more leaves
fell.
 
Nightfall,
boy smashing dandelions
with a stick.
 
Holding up my
purring cat to the moon
I sighed.
 
Drunk as a hoot owl,
writing letters
by thunderstorm.
 
Empty baseball field
a robin
hops along the bench.
 
All day long
wearing a hat
that wasn't on my head.
 
Crossing the football field
coming home from work -
the lonely businessman.
 
After the shower
among the drenched roses
the bird thrashing in the bath.
 
Snap your finger
stop the world -
rain falls harder.
 
Nightfall,
too dark to read the page
too cold.
 
Following each other
my cats stop
when it thunders.
 
Wash hung out
by moonlight
Friday night in May.
 
The bottoms of my shoes
are clean
from walking in the rain.
 
Glow worm
sleeping on this flower -
your light's on.

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