Potatoes soaked, grated, and mashed.
Potatoes whipped, roasted, and hashed.
Potatoes fried to the delight of all.
Potatoes, I love you, nature’s great windfall!
a squirrel settled
at my feet
from hunger or trust?
a lovely sunset
perhaps a ripe peach
and to some of us
not fruit at all
pumpkins scattered on:
drug store cashiers
farm children grown up
to the city
The lemons have fallen from the bowl
in two neat schoolchildren rows
Is this coincidence or the inscrutable hand of fate?
A mischievous god or a child with a taste
for fun and games and mind games galore
But perhaps, I’m fashioning over-complicated lore
for a few simple fruit I bought from the store
The table next to mine
thinks me funny for squeezing
mustard on my plate.
That’s because I don’t like it.
But if I’m to have a proper pastrami sandwich
I might as well try a little bit on the side
with my shavings.
Nah, I still hate it.
I do know how to eat a sandwich.
And I do know I’m getting robbed
at New York prices.
a pungent French cake
made of lavender essence
tastes like my hand soap
Giant anthers of yellow
I received some upsetting personal news and am not feeling creative today, so I thought you might enjoy some of my favorite haiku by Basho instead. The following were translated into English from Japanese by Sam Hamill:
You weren’t home when I came
even the plum blossoms were
in another yard
Between our two lives
there is also the life of
the cherry blossoms
Just one possession
in this lightly-lived life —
a gourd of rice
Mothers give you the whole wishbone;
They tell you half-dreams are an impossibility —
That all the goodness in your future
Is already yours