welcome to the haikutimes
Issue #73, Carbondale's 94th annual Potato Days festiva, October 3-5, 2003, dovetails nicely with the 11th year of Spudfest. Photographs, layout and haibun (prose with haiku) by Jonathan, with contributions from Paige Wild
Marley in the back seat
smiles an' coos an' totally cute
5 pm rush hour traffic
a holiday of our own making
similar to thanksgiving in that
we praise the fruits of the earth
we honor friendships
and the golden spud, created
to recognize best topping,
or most creative,
or least healthy
apple cider press
personifies the fall and
approaching spudfest
two buckets, eight hands
assembly-line spud scrubbing
in golden-fall light
spudversation
inspired by potatoes
stooping to scrub dirt
washing potatoes
water splashing on flagstone
as the buckets fill
the ninety-fourth year
celebrating the spud
coffee cauldron boils
roaring fork high school
class of 2006
screaming from that truck
balloon disappears
helium emissary
from a distant land
shawn in yellow coat
watching balloon disappear
green against white sky
local spud parade
for almost a century
how can you top that?
this is carbondale
but maybe we should call it
babydale
nutcracker children
dogs in windows with firehats
lining up for beef
for a moment
the streets of carbondale
play host to slow-moving fire trucks
cauldron of coffee
steaming near underground pit
beef slowly roasting
dalmations in the parade
growl at puppies on the street
who crouch low before llamas
baby-proofed household
cd player lying unprotected
idle, victim to prodding
family-opolis
carbondale must be the place
to have some babies
vacuming my head
then mowing the lawn backwards
young shawn is active
multiple toppings
devolve into gooey mass
which one did i like?
spuds are scrubbed
recipes are refined
brownies are burnt
diverse families assembled
almost as many kids as spuds
carefully numbered toppings
adorn a rental table
in the baby room
eating starts spontaneously
the previous years' recipient
of the golden spud relinquishes her crown,
the line forms,
the ballots are cast,
dangling chads trimmed
voting questionable-
when a tie between aloo mooter
and that caramel stuff emerges,
a call is sent out for one last vote
spicy peanut sauce wins best
quadruple bypass deluxe is least healthy
caramel fruity is most creative
another surprise awaits
the head of the spud household,
whose fortieth year
spawns secretive group plans
for a surprise party -
called out to rescue his brother
in a broken van
he then walks into a
fully-catered post-spud extravaganza
tavia teitler imitating
her 40-year-old uncle
time passes
spuds ripen
children arrive
of our own making
fabulous fall festival
alternative to war
running back and forth
little wobbily people
ponder gravity....paige
we leave at noon
after this last fantastic repast
well fed, gregarious, intra-familial
pausing for hackey sack at
vail pass
last night's snow
dusting on the divide
golden, orange, amber highlights
the final october blast of fall
peppering the aspens
before the snows come again
another traffic jam
turns out to be
the second wreck we've seen,
pickups crushed, ambulances
racing past stalled miles of highway traffic
patty dials the cell
to warn the father of her first child
the time of our delayed arrival,
a man who hides in the bushes
so as to avoid transgressing
his own sense of selfish perfection,
teaching his daughter that avoiding
and holding emnity is preferrable
to simply being with the truth.
Marley in the back seat
smiles an' coos an' totally cute
5 pm rush hour traffic
a holiday of our own making
similar to thanksgiving in that
we praise the fruits of the earth
we honor friendships
and the golden spud, created
to recognize best topping,
or most creative,
or least healthy
apple cider press
personifies the fall and
approaching spudfest
two buckets, eight hands
assembly-line spud scrubbing
in golden-fall light
spudversation
inspired by potatoes
stooping to scrub dirt
washing potatoes
water splashing on flagstone
as the buckets fill
the ninety-fourth year
celebrating the spud
coffee cauldron boils
roaring fork high school
class of 2006
screaming from that truck
balloon disappears
helium emissary
from a distant land
shawn in yellow coat
watching balloon disappear
green against white sky
local spud parade
for almost a century
how can you top that?
this is carbondale
but maybe we should call it
babydale
nutcracker children
dogs in windows with firehats
lining up for beef
for a moment
the streets of carbondale
play host to slow-moving fire trucks
cauldron of coffee
steaming near underground pit
beef slowly roasting
dalmations in the parade
growl at puppies on the street
who crouch low before llamas
baby-proofed household
cd player lying unprotected
idle, victim to prodding
family-opolis
carbondale must be the place
to have some babies
vacuming my head
then mowing the lawn backwards
young shawn is active
multiple toppings
devolve into gooey mass
which one did i like?
spuds are scrubbed
recipes are refined
brownies are burnt
diverse families assembled
almost as many kids as spuds
carefully numbered toppings
adorn a rental table
in the baby room
eating starts spontaneously
the previous years' recipient
of the golden spud relinquishes her crown,
the line forms,
the ballots are cast,
dangling chads trimmed
voting questionable-
when a tie between aloo mooter
and that caramel stuff emerges,
a call is sent out for one last vote
spicy peanut sauce wins best
quadruple bypass deluxe is least healthy
caramel fruity is most creative
another surprise awaits
the head of the spud household,
whose fortieth year
spawns secretive group plans
for a surprise party -
called out to rescue his brother
in a broken van
he then walks into a
fully-catered post-spud extravaganza
tavia teitler imitating
her 40-year-old uncle
time passes
spuds ripen
children arrive
of our own making
fabulous fall festival
alternative to war
running back and forth
little wobbily people
ponder gravity....paige
we leave at noon
after this last fantastic repast
well fed, gregarious, intra-familial
pausing for hackey sack at
vail pass
last night's snow
dusting on the divide
golden, orange, amber highlights
the final october blast of fall
peppering the aspens
before the snows come again
another traffic jam
turns out to be
the second wreck we've seen,
pickups crushed, ambulances
racing past stalled miles of highway traffic
patty dials the cell
to warn the father of her first child
the time of our delayed arrival,
a man who hides in the bushes
so as to avoid transgressing
his own sense of selfish perfection,
teaching his daughter that avoiding
and holding emnity is preferrable
to simply being with the truth.
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen