I blog almost daily. Sometimes I’m under the couch and I dictate words to the Mac. When sitting upright I type. Yes and occasionally I’m only half under the couch.
At least I have a couch. I have a computer. Depressed though I may be I can decide whether it’s a supine, under the furniture day or it’s time to sit upon the wing backed chair.
“First thought, best thought,” Jack Kerouac said. Jack, I’m now on the leather love seat, thinking about your unrivaled haikus.
In my medicine cabinet
the winter fly
has died of old age
Now to me that feels like a COVID poem.
Medicine; winter; died; cabinet; fly; age…
A bird on
the branch out there
— I waved
For Kerouac the most important thing about his version of haiku was the picture and the kick. No syllable counts.
Who has time for syllable counting?
Not me. Here’s one just now:
I heard a fly
About the room
Blogging gives a writer an advantage not found in a formal approach to the page. I’m talking about speed blogging which is the only kind I do.
Can’t pull nose hair
Mind runs hot
Yes I’m half the day under the sofa.
Yes I’m lucky to have a sofa.
Yes the sofa is beneath a roof.
I have heat and food for now.
And mind, that old gambler, dreaming of horses still unborn.