
hanging minds
like my cat
in the middle of the room
on his four feet
not capable to surmise
what his will wants him to do
like an organ point
not the composer's point
but a pedal key
unable to return
to its equilibrium
lost souls
slings wrapped around pebbles
sharp-set ...
... in desperate need of a Philistine
PS
grazie a un typo grandioso di Jan


Salon.com
Comments
to gimme my central point. of? No Opinion Whatsoever
except that
of my Socratic dance
of agreeing with everything then saying, "but...."
~
better than christing it.
christing takes up too much energy ,,
and i am very very timid and shy. in my person.
~
philistine culture is a lovely release for my poor mind.
when it gives up authority to my urges.
my id, my flesh, my satan, my organic body, my 'me',
my vessel of fun,
my
incarnation in a body..
(so hard t o believe sometimes)
my holiness goes out the window when i spot
a female runner, in scanty clothes,
taking the time
to smile at me and georgie puppy
as she grinds and races and sweats and strives by............
for?
But never ever meet me with a sling and a stone.
Nor set loose that Georgie Puppie dog on me.
And I promise you,
when you want to leave the house
to go after that female runner -
in the meantime I'll babysit Georgie Puppy.
Clever allusions--superb follow-up on a serendipitous metaphor.
Masterful final line.
A lack of clear reasoning
In a vintage whine.
I love haiku. They get right to the point.
good to see you here.
I'm not afraid of Philistines, Stahti.
Neither do I care when someone labels me "his" Philistine.
Yes Paul, yesterday the association had already hit me.
The illustration is part of a painting of Edgard Degas, libby.
Everyone his favorites, isn’t it.
And we wouldn't remove from earth everything we are not fond of, would you Amy?
So much to rejoice at between haikai no ku and Dietsche Dichtconste.
(btw, when we meet another time, bring along a haiku
I’m also a lover)