Sunday, April 18, 2010


Entering The Crab Cooker
We sit under 35 year old white shark
Caught off shore at arrival
With Scheafy shrimps
On the side dish
And chardonnay
Turning pink
In an old fashioned playground.
I go mellow and even smile pale
In silence,and
Continue writing continuous Haiku
No matter continuous
Or divorced
In lines
And a blue plate special.
Looks silly and farce.
A soft shell crab
Dancing Atlantic now
And a tone with an accent
Sometimes inviting
Sometimes satisfied
And forgetful.
We say cheers in sheer faraway sound
Sounding more so
Like a farewell
Than greeting.
And the window is darkening
Throwing our hands
Into the streets of sunset.
I am under attack not once but twice
I pull my subconscious away
and duck not once but twice
In retreat
Not being hit
by staring sunset
At the naked beach.

We escaped
New Port Beach Film Festival
And broke our fasting
By watching David And Fatima
In a melodramatic moonshine mood
With a watery package of love and blood
On a wrecked bridge.
Life is Haiku.

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