Timed and untimed, A chaos of raindrops Upon a sleepy roof Filling gutters and trailing Spume in snail trails That wind their way Drinking toasts to those Whose evaporation From the scene Left such a hole In awkward conversation. The clink of glass And amber froth Disappeared in the wake Like reeling in the catchContinue reading “Binge. A poem.”
I glanced drunkenly into the near-empty bottle. In the viscous alcohol I saw my face, rippled and twisted like a garish Mr. Hyde. I laughed at the carnival mirror, so accurately reflecting every facet of my, oh, so petulant features. Every flaw and misconception brought to life in errant ripples at the bottom of aContinue reading “The Near-Empty Bottle. A poem.”
Ah, haiku. My favourite 5/7/5 syllable verse form.
Back to writing in threes, which seems to flow naturally for me.
There was a time when I used to drink a lot. I don’t drink anymore. And I’m better for it.