Haiku you

The Griz and I were noodling around the interweb, looking for a cool picture to use on labels for a batch of ice wine he’s making, which led us to a site called Bad Haiku, which led me to ask, “Is there any other kind?”

I don’t write poetry, since I try to avoid doing things at which I suck. But I do indulge in haiku once in a while, because – well, c’mon, all haiku sucks, so mine doesn’t stand out as particularly bad. Besides, the value of haiku is more for the writer than the reader.

To the reader, it’s gives a little amuse bouche of an “Ah!” or “Huh?” or just a quick roll of the eyes. But the writer is forced to contemplate and manipulate the words on a minute level. The specificity of it is both meditative and muscle-building.

These are by Bad Haiku poster “Kackarott”:

From his grave I dug
Up Steve McQueen and we drove
Real fucking fast! YEAH!

Dreamt that I was made
Out of chocolate and was
Eaten by fat chicks

There was a pretty
Vagina that spoke spanish
Que' pasa hombre'????

To which “Mox” adds:

the words are a mood
of a temporary time
purifying self