My groping hand shoved Away once more from delight: Supple joys denied.

A fairly quick rough track of a good idea

Sunlight streaming down. Gentle breeze disturbs new leaves. Spring's awakenings.

Roasting on one side, Freezing on the other side: The joy of campfires.

The coals are red-hot, Nag champa incense burning, Cherry Coke in hand.

The coals are red-hot, Yellow kernels a-roasting, Three ears are ready.

Antidisestab- lishmentarism: too many sylla- (bles?)

"Warren, line three, please." Annoying public address. (He's a busy man.)

(instrumental)

Unstoppable thief, Never aware of our needs, Time flows on and on.

six 7/8 schlemiel schlemazel It's an instrumental, too.

9/11, I . . . (Do I have survivor's guilt?) . . . worked a normal day.

Got to get going! Only ninety days remain To pen forty more. (I'd reached the halfway mark for eighty haiku; I must have written this sometime in November 2011.)

Answering machine. You might have something to say When you hear the beep. Those who have my home phone number know that this has been my actual answering machine message for over a year.

The curse of our time: Cellular stupidity. Can you hear me now?

Tied up, fourteen-all. Coiled tight, yet poised, until He hears, "Ready . . . fence!"

May the twenty-first, Harold Camping said, "It's done." Sinners, best repent. May the twenty-one, Party time for ev'ryone. Sinners, best repent.

A simple table Set before my enemies, My head anointed.