between rain showers

between rain showers —
the dog trembles
in her sleep

between rain showers —
that same damned cricket
outside my window

alter ego ergo sum

This blog is mostly autobiographical in that, in addition to original haiku, surrealist rants and ad hoc word droppings, there are frequent references to real-life events contained herein. I use the qualifier mostly because these events are deliberately cast in a decidedly dark light. In other words, Extra Special Bitter is a blog persona which allows me to indulge an oppressively pensive perspective, one which, while accurate, is not 100% of the whole.

The feelings I have about my eldest daughter’s wedding, my son and daughter’s departure for college and my youngest sons’ continued incarceration with their mother are undeniably complex, composed of unequal parts of joy, pride, frustration, anguish, amprehension and grief. So while I am somewhat sad to see my daughter married, I’m also genuinely excited to see her wide-eyed excitement as she begins a new phase of her life. It’s a sign of success as a parent to see one’s children taking bold steps into adulthood.

Extra Special Bitter is blind to this hope, thinking it so much Hallmark fluff. He sees his daughter’s wedding in the mirror of his own disastrous first marriage, never considering the possibility that she may have a greater capacity to overcome life’s obstacles than he did at the same age. As such, the marriage is a pure aching loss, overwhelming his every waking thought with a paralyzing grief.

The real-life counterpart to Extra Special Bitter beamed with pride while walking his daughter down the aisle, and then presented her to the Minister with a kiss on her cheek and a whispered "I love you" in her ear.

I liken it to my music collection: Bauhaus’ 1979-1983: Volume One sits on the shelf right next to the Beach Boys’ Pet Sounds. Portishead’s eponymous debut is adjacent to Frosting on the Beater by the Posies. I like the inane bubblegum pop of the Pooh Sticks every bit as much as the shimmering noise of My Blooding Valentine.

In other words, I embrace both side of the Force.

I should be

I should be uproariously happy. I should not be inconsolable.

Overtly, I am mostly content, displaying my best attempt at a benignly pleasant demeanor. I smile when I talk about recent events and genuinely thank those who congratulate me. What a lucky guy I am.

Two nights ago I woke up screaming at about 4 in the morning. I had touched an ignition coil and was instantly incinerated. It was tough falling back to sleep after that.

red savina peppers

red savina peppers —
the father of the bride
weeps

Monday morning

Monday morning —
my daughter has
another man’s name

my daughter's wedding day

my daughter’s wedding day —
a dragonfly perched
on the backyard pulpit

a father's dilemma

a father’s dilemma —
how can one give away
that which is priceless?

ex post facto

it stood just beyond the gate, leering at me. I say it because I’m reasonably certain the creature is only vaguely human. it hunches, mutters and spits, always approaching but never getting too close. because I do my best to ignore it, I get the impression it believes it is invisible. judging from the disgusted stares of everyone around it, this is sadly not the case.

Downtown Crossing

Downtown Crossing —
no one wants a balloon
from a dejected clown

two from the train

chance of rain —
a crow perched
on a satellite dish

summer clouds —
the dog stretches
then lies back down

I've been tagged

Heather Feather was the unwitting tagger. Here is the sorry result:

10 years ago: my first and only full summer in Stillwater, MN. As I recall, we had two or three consecutive days with high temperatures over 100. tenement landscapes begins to take shape.

5 years ago: our next to last full day in England. We are loading up on Monkman's Slaughter. Camera in hand, Mary asks "do sheep bite?" Two days later, Tim moves in with us.

1 year ago: we prepare to drive Tim to college in Fredericksburg, VA and then drive back the long way, through Pittsburgh, Cleveland, and the U.P.

Yesterday: pay day! Asian Dub Foundation's "Community Music" arrives in the mail. The Red Sox beat Texas 16 to 5.

Today: back-to-back meetings are cancelled, freeing me up to compile this list. Red Sox are off. Yoga at 6:30, after which I perform pro bono IT functions for Mary. I suspect I will need beer.

Tomorrow: Friday! John is taking us to lunch at Redbones in Davis Square. we prepare for Saturday's MWRA meeting. Rebekah is getting married next weekend!

5 snacks I enjoy: turron, halvah, cashews, almonds, grapes

5 singers/bands most of whose lyrics I know: Guided by Voices, REM, Robyn Hitchcock, The Kinks, The Who

5 things I would do with $100,000,000: pay for my kids' college, invest in an income-producing fund, visit Australia, New Zealand, Spain, and other places on our growing list, purchase my very first new car, move to Belize

5 locations I'd run away to: Placencia, 29 Palms, Monterrey, Santa Fe, the Cropton Brewery

5 bad habits I have: a fondness for beer and wine, an aversion to exercise, bad puns, night terrors, blogging during work hours

5 things I like doing: hunting for brewpubs in new locations, "discovering" new music, writing haiku, writing about writing haiku, researching new gadgets

5 things I would never wear: a girdle, a corset, a wife beater, a midriff-bearing blouse, pumps

5 TV shows I like: The Daily Show, Malcolm in the Middle, The Simpsons, Argentine Soccer Highlights, Thirty Days

5 Movies I like: Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, Breaker Morant, My Favorite Year, The Waking Life, Lost in Translation

5 Famous People I'd Like to meet: George W. Bush (to punch him), Robert Pollard (to introduce him to good beer), Jon Stewart (to talk about dogs), Robyn Hitchcock (to talk about supercomputers), Jackie Chan (to drive me around San Francisco)

5 Biggest Joys at the moment: Hazed and Infused, Melody du jour, Nate's two doubles, a number of rekindled friendships, "Pink Frost"

5 Favorite Toys: Creative Zen Touch, Blackberry, blogger.com, Shadow Poetry, Google Earth

dichotomy

I’m considering a reorganization of my two blogs. haikupoet.com was always intended to be a gallery for my haiku in combination with my wife Mary’s photography. What I’ve discovered, however, is that we rarely have time to collaborate, therefore the posts to the blog are few and far between. extra special bitter was supposed to be a place for me to indulge my dark side, but I’ve found myself using it as an all-purpose playground for recycled poetry, impromptu rants, and haiku in progress.

So I’m pondering several possibilities:

expanding haikupoet.com to include all of my haiku posts

shutting down haikupoet.com and making all of my posts to extra special bitter

keeping both blogs as is

Naturally I welcome the feedback of the reading public regarding this critical crossroad...

pay day

pay day —
a double espresso
for my hangover, please

dead of summer

dead of summer —
a spider dangles
from the windchimes

winning at the game of losing

just a title. otherwise I’ve got nothing.

dog days

dog days —
the dog
dazed

windless

windless —
a bead of sweat
clinging to her lipstick

the opposite of insomnia

It’s not even eight o’clock and I’ve been up for almost four hours. Sadly, I finished my first cup of coffee nearly an hour and a half ago. I wanted to wait a little longer to grab another dose of caffeine, but I’ve encountered a foggy section of road in the deserted highway of my brain and I need to pull over. Please grab the wheel...

south central bell

a pay phone on the corner
rings unanswered.
it isn't mine.
I can't see the ocean
but I can taste the salt in the air.
hurrying past me
terms of endearment
are uttered
with the sincerity of a sneeze.
no one asks me
what I'm writing
or why
but they all eye me with suspicion.
and with good reason, of course.
I say I'm nearly through waiting
but it obviously hasn't been long enough.
not even a whisper of reprieve.
more pedestrian traffic weighs in
chatting cheerfully until they see me.
why am I here?
the foundation of metaphysics.
how long will I stay?
foundation and too much blush.
laughter spills out onto the sidewalk
with no one to clean up after it.
shops are closing right and left
and yet no one
wants to know
what I'm waiting for.
maybe that's not true.
maybe they all want to know.
maybe they all know already.
the flags are taken down.
the lights are turned off.
finally
my hands are turning blue.
there are more reasons
to leave
than to stay
even though I only needed one.
the last pedestrian
was downright frightened.
am I so indistinguishable
from the shadows?
maybe I'll wait
until I've filled the page
although I've already said
far too much
about nothing at all.
I have a fantasy
in which I walk away
and finally hear the phone ring
only to continue walking
never turning back.
what will happen instead
of course
is that I'll stay here
until I freeze solid
and the phone will never ring.
every few steps
I will look over my shoulder
at the silent phone.
every few steps
I will hear it ringing
somewhere else.

(Hermosa Beach, CA - 1996)

a beer is a poem is a hand grenade

a beer is a poem is a hand grenade
silencing the birdsong
in tall leafless trees
framing the gray horizon
in a doorway of flames
and staggering to the drunken music
of a cocktail napkin haiku.

(Irving, TX - 1998)

trainsongs

express train —
all the conductor's dollar bills
George-side up

standing room only —
the flutter of false eyelashes
behind the shades

August heat

August heat —
a gypsy moth
trapped in a spider web

August heat —
the double yellow line
shimmers

August heat —
a chorus of crickets
in the train yard

late night thunderstorm

late night thunderstorm —
we invite the dog
into bed