Haiku Freight Train #1: Foreshadowing

I just got another

burial insurance email.

It seems sinister.

Third Annual Haiku Freight Train.

And so again this March and April I will couple a dozen or so American Haiku with photos of a freight train because, well, I don't know anymore. For some reason I get stopped at crossings with a camera in February, and with a bit of a thaw begin writing haiku in March. Unfortunately, this time the camera was my phone, so the images blur. Fortunately, railroad graffiti has become more popular. As for the quality of the poetry, who knows, but there will be a new one every few days beginning tomorrow. Cheers.

Some Things Like the Seasons.

I went to your house the other day.
It was unseasonably warm for February.
You and I would've discussed this,
sat outside perhaps, considered
the effect on springtime planting.

A train roared west into downtown,
briefly drowning out the neighbor's dogs
who snarled as if they'd tear my throat.
I showed them one finger, then went
about picking winter trash from your lawn.

After the old place sells, I imagine
I'll still come back to close my eyes
and hear the trains from this angle,
to pretend that some things never change 

except the seasons.

Coming Soon: Small Print Run "Broad Street" Three Stories

Haiku Written at a Railroad Crossing.

Twenty-three tankers

and a boxcar. I haven't

seen you since July.

Lots

All these vacant lots,

hardly anyone around

who will remember.

Good News, Bad News, he said.

Dave came in this morning

to tell me he heard my name

on the news, so he turned.

I was dead or 

had killed somebody.

He couldn't remember, but

I should look into it to see

what I've been up to.

As it stands, I'm not

answering my phone today.

I'm not sure

what's going on

except

I seem to have some

explaining to do.