JakTraks

Dentist Haiku 2

the only person
to grant me a golden crown
bows to my cuspid

The Day After

yesterday cleaned-up
the piles all over my desk
can't find anything

Dentist Haiku

silent dentist's drill
has not been invented yet
fly on the ceiling

June 5

a quintessential late spring day
lucky me
I get to play
no call list or meetings
no memos for reading
just me and the trees
catching some rays

The Crab

did not enjoy my day at work
irritable inside
fillin' my role on the outside

did some breathing and yoga
a little qigong
even meditated briefly
reminded myself how fortunate
to be employed
laughed when I could
. . .  still crabby

a crab day
day of the crab
I like eating crab

Early Spring

I need a sweatshirt in my house
a t-shirt in the yard
typing this with bluish fingers
makes staying in very hard

an extra blanket on the bed
as if thirty below
my toes turn red inside my socks
like when shoveling snow

a pair of shorts hang by the door
for when I venture out
sink my bare feet in the grass
enjoy the tulips sprout

in two months when weather warms
the chill inside be gone
I'll sit here sweaty and complain
then turn the AC on

Uninvited

home today with a headache
which was asked to leave -
its overstayed its welcome

not invited in the first place
but rode the damp april wind
into The Caves of Sinus

some have sensitive souls
I have delicate facial cavities -
a few of us have all the luck

lying down is worse than sitting
so I'm at the computer
putting the guest into words

so far
its not taken the hint

Domestic Hunter

yesterday I was an intrepid domestic
my vacuuming fantastic
sucked prolific dust bunnies
into dust bunny heaven

a layer
of white and black cat hair
ascended through the tunnel
joining the bunnies and mighty mites
not anchored in the short pile

sweating from exertion
switched off the hoover
and gloating above the wall to wall trophy
knew it would never be
nearly as satisfying
if I hunted every week

Origins

computers evolve
because we remake them
to do a few things better
than we their makers

can we do a few things better
than our creators
perhaps our word evolve
is synonym for their concept re-vamp

there could be an unknown life form
or non-form
punching a holographic keyboard
and pushing a giant five dimensional mouse
scooting me around my carbon-based life

computers have amazing memory
with zippidee-doo-dah retrieval
and giga-tetra-trilobytes
of calculation capacity,
thinking and socializing with ones and zeros

perhaps our designers
have grown us into organi-chines
which process five virtual sounds
that inform their world:
A.E.I.O. and U . . .

Just When You Get Comfortable . . .

morning sun spills in
drapes the wide arm of my chair
Mocha Joe* stretched out

cup of joe near by
blinds trace bars across this page
temporarily

empty yogurt cup
a good book on the table
but now I must pee

*Mocha Joe is a cat

The Roads Not Taken

 

Two roads diverged in the woods
and I, I've been torn ever since,
so to trek without a trail
will make quite a difference.

What Is It Anyway?

state of being unmarred by judgment
or adoring a flaw-full mate
vibe of certain amplitude
or the mood of quiet hearts
self-forgetting I am thou
or self-remembering up til now
folding socks when no one cares
dusting mop boards up the stairs
long hours shopping for a dress
raving the one she likes as best
dis-identifying with flesh
or trying to move the earth enmeshed
caring though respect is gone
you've been dumped the night time long
a frilly card to melt the heart
or be silly or a tart
?

Surprise!!

oh what joy what relief
I had called time a tricky thief
but it was only bad subtraction
brought about my false reaction
to my birthday which is today

I am a year less
than I had professed
the past few months
since about may

illusion it is
illusion I'll take
of gaining a year with my birthday cake
my math-dud mind so easily teased
by errant digits my brain had seized

so happy birthday to me to me
from scare of an extra year I'm free
later the blazing light from candles
won't be much dimmed but less to handle

Inevitable

don't feel too inspired
in fact I'm rather tired
I feel a nap coming on

lay down . . .

don't feel all that tired
in fact I'm pretty wired
got some chores I need to do

get up . . .

wish that I had hired
a maid I am so mired
hear a book call my name

sit down . . .

not much plot transpired
the author should be fired
salty chips would make my day

get up . . .

no chips below or higher
disappointment dire
think that I will meditate

sit down . . .

my lap becomes a bier
three cats have come to lie here
was in focus now so blurry

curl up . . .

the kitties had conspired
and risked this person's ire
knowing all the while they're safe

to sleep we now aspire . . .

Vacation Over

well
its back to work tomorrow
my contemplative side is lost in sorrow

I was made for loose or unplanned hours
eating whenever
occasional showers

I must have birthed in the work-hard line
instead of the one for grapes and wine

I'd be more help within the world
in my overstuffed chair all curled

with pen and paper books at hand
coffee pot ready
housework banned

computer buzzing internet ready
my mind would produce genius steady

its certain some mistake was made
but tomorrow its back to the place I'm paid

don't get it wrong
I'm grateful you see
it just not where my mind flies free

Innocence of Cats

one of my cats said
write about mercury in fish
another cat said
write about endangered jungle cats
the third said
write about global warming

I think they're pulling my leg

what they really want
is for me to stop writing
and rub them
tell them how handsome they are
give them some treats

but we don't need cats
to tug at our legs
we pull our own
to relieve immense problems
when all we really want
(what would make our day)
is some version of
a hug with praise and cookies

haiku sunday

I don't have much time
to write so I'll pen haiku,
cobwebs on my wall.

cat hair everywhere
complements the litter tracks,
time to take a nap.

books calling my name
an easy chair invites me,
mold grows in the fridge.

you could say I live
symbiotic with all life,
watching fruit flies dance.

Pronounced: koh-THUR-nuhs

what in the world is a cothurnus

a forerunner of the modern thermos
a marriage of two single thurnus
or a stone age duplex sharing a furnace

possibly it means
turn with us
or thurn with us if you will

maybe something people said
when someone sneezed
coTHURnus!

you coth when you have the sniffles
don't you

it could be coth is a type of urn
used by thuringian tribes
or agreement between all thurnuses
the plural of which is thurni

it turns out my guesses are not even close
its a thick-soled buckskin boot
worn by greeks and romans who
acted in the tragedies
(penned by those like sophocles)
dramatically raising their height

now its used to designate
a grave and tragic lofty style
of character
or verses known to resonate
the curtain call of guile

Taking the Throne

monday is my first of days
being a manager type
yipes!

a foreman not a yeoman now
and here I sit the same old cow
but inside I feel it stretching
the sleeping lion lifts its head

courage the groggy feline said

my presence will cause them all to pause
while compassion blunts my claws
it will be hard to bare my teeth
squeezed inside your skinny sheath

but if you need it I can pounce
roaring scares them when it counts
and hunters above will never see
the lazy cat you're born to be

those below will always find
a lioness is mostly kind

I think that's what the feline said
rising from her yeoman bed

So Far . . .

just finished looking at a cool site
about creating six word memoirs
the sum of me in six words
now that could be a lot of fun

knowing love as respect and wholeness

cats don't care about scummy toilets

drinks coffee, loves animals, is tall

never made a perfectly rumpled bed

hates to work, always had job

my vision has grown more inclusive

a non-people person becomes a psychotherapist

my life's common thread is poetry

searched for self that doesn't exist

born unique just like everyone else

a darker roast makes better coffee

know less than when I started

truth is known, all else believed

don't eat Oreos before seeing clients

I was right
it is fun

Priorities Schmorities

finally I can sit and write
but you should see my place tonight

a fright

piles here piles there
crumbs and dust bears everywhere

stacks of papers on desk and chairs
the bowl needs scrubbing
(the cats don't care)

the kitchen floor tells many tales
a hieroglyph of spots and smells
laundry overflows the hampers
like too much soap creates disaster

my desk is cleared off in the middle
enough to work unless I wiggle
too far left too far right
stand up sit down fight fight fight

the shower liner in my tub
an abstract painting all in mold
the essence lyric
brush strokes bold

yet here I sit so happy to write
a beacon in a den of blight

A Dime's Worth of Then and Now

when I was kid
I loved the far off song
of an ice cream truck
coming my way

drumsticks fudge-bars popsicles dream-sicles
ice cream sandwiches
strawberry sundaes eskimo pies
ran to the house
hey mom can I have a dime
why not
but mom . . .
(no matter what time of day
mom always said
it will spoil your dinner)

still I always hoped
and it was ever pleasant
to hear the truck nearby

today
if the ice cream truck
drives by one more time
playing
do your ears hang low
I will throw a grenade

Chicken or Cheese?

rain or shine
make up your mind

but then

why should the weather
make up its mind
when I can't
some of the time

in chaos there is order you know
computers crunch numbers
and tell us so

so perhaps in indecision
is a dance
of great precision

it just doesn't show

I think I'll have
the mac and cheese
instead of chicken
if you please

later I may change my tune
fickle
as the sky this June

Ant-ics

this was the week
of the local ant jubilee
in my kitchen

a heavy trail
coming and going from a hole
in the floor
in the wall
conga line to the cats' dishes
pick up a crumb
do a one-eighty
and go

quite a convention
I imagine ants that haven't
seen each other over the winter
reconnect
catch up

we added 20 more
tunnels to our home
we've had a real baby boom
at our farm
(boomer ants)
milo went on a scouting trek
never returned
we keep hoping

hated to put a damper
on the festivities
(the ant-ics are fascinating)
but spoiled the milk
and they
went away

see you next june

Introducing My Cats

I'm giving my three cats
their fifteen minutes of fame

above is Java
thirteen
very tender-hearted

afraid of strangers
and the vacuum

loves cheese
loves ice cream
loves his tummy scratched

this is Jax
four
affectionate and feisty

loves to groom me
and stretch out
on my outstretched legs

tries to flush the toilet
but so far
his paw slips off before the whoosh

mocha joe
thirteen
loves to sit in my lap
if its his choice

likes being scratched
between the ears
down to the neck

my faithful alarm clock
and furry soul buddy

Oh Sweet Pea

what a day for a daydream
all we need is love

by moon river
(wider than a mile)
we're sittin' on the dock of the bay
feelin' groovy

love me tender
love me true
for I'm Henry the VIII
I am

I am a rock
I am an island
and I can't help falling in love with you

be my love
ba ba ba
ba bar-ber ann
we'll all live in a yellow submarine
let people say we're monkeyin' around

yesterday . . .
we're goin' to the chapel
but someone left the cake out in the rain
well I've seen fire
and I've seen rain
burn burn burn
splish splash

the sun'll come out tomorrow
wild thing

they call it
puppy love
but I got you babe
let's do the twist
celebrate good times
c'mon

Song for a Kettle Chip

I never tasted one
until a couple months ago
my office-mate at the office (duh)
gave me a handful of Kettle Chips
Sea Salt & Vinegar

laying one on my tongue
biting slow to savor the crunch
my buds go into over-drive
ecstatic to have a mouthful . . .

of the 4th of July
(fireworks finale) . . .

a banjo string pulled taut
and then let go
(the bag calls the chips "tangy"
I call em' twangy) . . .

the hues of tiger-lilies
engine red tulips
a meadow of dandelions
(my tongue now understands
trying to look at the sun)

a salt lover's heaven
made from plain potatoes
tanned in sun and safflower oil
not laced with MSG
(and I don't mean "a message")
no transgression of trans fats
the art of tasteful chip making
with nothing artificial

lunch was a PBJ sandwich
graced by the twangy eye-popping chips
sitting on the steps of my porch
the wind was able by w-mail
to forward the scent of lilacs
(I thought they'd never bloom!)
while the noon-ish sky
poured its warm syrup over
my arms and neck

I mean really . . .
does it get any better?

Eulogy for A Mouse

I never thought you'd fall apart

from the start we clicked
I said:
mouse my comfy pad is yours

you were white
not black or grey
like your dull sibs
(I hear they bite)

connections made always quick
very rarely lost or broken

beady eye on the cursor
ever red but ever open

I miss your shape
smooth ivory skin
touch deprivation's
setting in

you were a wonderful mouse for me
I miss your cordless freestyle play

but happy to know the big cheese awaits
in the bin this recycling day

We Used To Burn Bras

I hate wearing bras

I'm only a B
on the cusp of A
meaning
I don't need one most of the time
except for propriety's sake

what its like to carry around
a C or D treasure chest
is beyond my ken
maybe wearing a bra's more comfortable
if more endowed

there are ways to give bras the slip

camisoles
shirts with two front pockets
t's and tanks with built in support
leisure bras
or just refusing to wear one

will bras reach extinction

the girdle didn't die
after pantyhose
perhaps women will always
lift and separate

don't want to trade my job
for bust freedom
I wear the expected at work
unless I can get by
with one
of the substitutes (see above)

only good thing
after a long bra-day
is the sweet pleasure
the moment
its taken off

I feel better
having got that off my chest
(pun intended)