Monday, August 29, 2016

hazy (bad) haiku for the first week of class

fog. it's monday. this
week, i return to work a
monster.  she looks the

same, but she's aiming
her ideologies at
the defenseless! i

should be labeled, the
warning tattooed on my face,
a scarlet m. some

of us wear our scars
like invisible masks, our
faces seemingly

naked while we face
our gauntlets daily, the world
a serrated street.

some walk a somber
path, their rigidity clear
as ice in their eyes,

as necessary
as the air they breathe.  some are
openly fragile,

like leaves left open
when beetles have fed. i want
to hold us all and

keep us whole, but i
am just one woman this week
and of the wrong kind.

it's a kind of self-
induced torture, this speaking
aloud when only

one form of loud is
acceptable.  this morning's
fog is easy to

hit, a target too
convenient to ignore in
the first week of class.

the first thing i'll do,
then, is go for a run, my
body threading the

moisture while the threads
of haze in my brain begin
to stitch the patterns

of the initial
encounters of the coming
week. there is a kind

of weakness that mocks
the legitimacy of
that which makes us frail,

and, therefore, makes us
human.  then there is the kind
that shouts a one-note

song and demands that
others join the chorus.  these
are musical times.

today, my music
will include the cadence of
my middle-aged joints,

at some point joined by
an aching internal voice
that will try to make

sense of a trying
path and of the lyrics key
to sing its looming


-- Great Lakes Greta


  1. Awesome as always.
    But what is the scarlet M?

    1. I wondered that, too -- but by the end I was simply relieved to be away from it all, running in the fog.

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  3. This semester's kids
    Are such shameless peckerheads.
    Kick them in the rump.

  4. Second week 'round here.
    Start flailing then hit my grove,
    Monday's classes work!

    Astro lab site issues.
    At school light washes the night
    Prairie park use permit.

    Our majors have cash woes.
    Save money on books; ground shipping.
    Can't start reading yet.

    Employed students take night class.
    Too long and too infrequent.
    At least they work hard.

  5. today the meetings
    begin, days of soul-crushing
    repetition that

    sound like the buzzing
    of a thousand lazy wasps
    and feel like the sting

    of countless, tiny,
    worker bees all competing
    for one single, spent