welcome to the haikutimes
Issue #35 Flatirons Crossing, Broomfield, Colorado, August 17, 2002.
Haiku: Sara Benson, Patrick Lynn, Susan Peterson, Krista Morien,
Jonathan Machen
i think i am lost
desperate to get outside,
i run through nordstroms
mastering the art
of disguising the shadow
antiseptic trash
voluptuous women
plastered all over the wall
feeling inadequate
crouched in the darkness
beneath the saleswomen's skirt
is it a monkey?
mick jagger
seems to be coming from
the flower bed
underneath the pebbles
in the dry streambed, the cold
rushes between my fingers
write a haiku
no not one, no not one
shopping instead
two mexican women
scrubbing the hell out of chairs
which don't look dirty
shopping and watching
t.v. at the same time -
what more could you ask for?
dreams of abundance
ignored by the janitor
who scrapes marble floors
my yardsale clothing
not in style according
to the latest trends
at the food court
a family clasps hands
praying over lunch
the baby takes
her first steps
at flatirons crossing
this place is full of
exuberant young shoppers
with expectant eyes
a certain wholesome
smell wafting from the doors
of eddie bauer - draws me in
waiting and waiting
for this guy to stop squeezing
honey into his tea
all so glamorous
with already perfect clothes
as they come to shop
the "stuff your own
teddy bear store" is popular
with girls the same size
i can't stand how
everything is a fucking
cartoon of life
after four seasons here
each plant calls to me
visible or not
little does he know
i am a haiku poet,
not a corporate spy
i sit down to write
and get nabbed by the
marketing surveyor
teasel, as tall as me
each day more purple flowers
vanish into autumn
one year on this land
where is all the pain i brought
here all is beautiful
i think i am lost
desperate to get outside,
i run through nordstroms
mastering the art
of disguising the shadow
antiseptic trash
voluptuous women
plastered all over the wall
feeling inadequate
crouched in the darkness
beneath the saleswomen's skirt
is it a monkey?
mick jagger
seems to be coming from
the flower bed
underneath the pebbles
in the dry streambed, the cold
rushes between my fingers
write a haiku
no not one, no not one
shopping instead
two mexican women
scrubbing the hell out of chairs
which don't look dirty
shopping and watching
t.v. at the same time -
what more could you ask for?
dreams of abundance
ignored by the janitor
who scrapes marble floors
my yardsale clothing
not in style according
to the latest trends
at the food court
a family clasps hands
praying over lunch
the baby takes
her first steps
at flatirons crossing
this place is full of
exuberant young shoppers
with expectant eyes
a certain wholesome
smell wafting from the doors
of eddie bauer - draws me in
waiting and waiting
for this guy to stop squeezing
honey into his tea
all so glamorous
with already perfect clothes
as they come to shop
the "stuff your own
teddy bear store" is popular
with girls the same size
i can't stand how
everything is a fucking
cartoon of life
after four seasons here
each plant calls to me
visible or not
little does he know
i am a haiku poet,
not a corporate spy
i sit down to write
and get nabbed by the
marketing surveyor
teasel, as tall as me
each day more purple flowers
vanish into autumn
one year on this land
where is all the pain i brought
here all is beautiful
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen