prose poem and haiku

prose poem

the glasses clink on their way out of the dishwasher and onto the shelves
they clink again, and slosh, as they are taken up and filled

drunk in gulps, with soft sighs and conversation, they make their way, eventually, back to the dishwasher


haiku

the winter blanket
unchanged by the falling snow
where did it come from?

my only regret is *

that Don couldn’t share in the fun
that I wasn't more me
not curing my bone-itis
that I didn't kill her earlier
that I died without tasting panini
being tricked into wearing a sequined shirt
that I didn't force the issue last year
that I did not drink more Champagne
ever meeting you and letting you in
that I didn't
Takemoto's seeming unimportance towards the end
letting myself be tricked into saying ignorant shit at the end of the show which was not true
wasting money on cheap, noisy units that break after a year or two
that I didn't buy another skein of the Tilli
getting caught
that I have none
that the Pumpkin Spice Layer Cake with Caramel and Cream Cheese Frosting is all gone
that I signed away the world rights and in America they've been far and away my most successful books, but I never saw a cent from any of it.
that I didn't kill more
resisting Twitter for so long
buying a 220 dollar AMAZING bong a month ago and no longer being able to use it
that I totally forgot to bring a jacket