Sunday, June 21, 2015

bad haiku on the first night of summer, after the last week of the semester

when the cottonwood
thickens the air and the frogs
return to lend their

voices to the night's
chorus, and the fireflies blink
their staccato code

as they trace the dusk
along the back garden wall,
my thoughts turn to you –

you tea partying
scum of a plagiarist – who
will fail at so much

more that matters much
more … and I reach for the wine,
pour another glass …

… and breathe … another
year in the books, another
confrontation to

end it, to remind
me that i'm just a cog in
a giant machine

that buzzes along
with the seaming industry
of bees, but with none

of their grace,
or honey.


  1. Thanks. I will re-read in the morning to jump-start my day.

  2. Hi,Greta! How wonderful to see a new poem from you -- and on the solstice, too. I like the image of the university as a not-very-productive hive/factory, though it's a depressing one as well. I hope you get some time to enjoy the garden, and the fireflies, this summer (and I'm reminded that I should go check out the one cottonwood nearby, though I suspect that, in our more southerly climes, it has already done its thing while I was busy with other matters).

  3. What an odd and jarring juxtaposition - the evening garden and a punk. Startled me. I like it.

  4. Greta! Good to see you back! Please write more, we've missed you!