She’s Legitimately Going: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

She didn’t want to /
talk to him, but *her going /
was legitimate.
Or
*she’s going/
legitimately.

T-Shirt Vendor Performance Experience: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

He, rushed, didn’t have/
the whole experience he’d/
paid for. She, still, did.

Rushing Presidential Visits: Revolutionary ImproVerse Haiku

Others may make you/
rush more, even when you want/
to linger longer.

Praying As We Go: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

If I don’t have time/
to listen, I can still pray/
And hear as I go.

They Saw A Moose: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

These are some things you
might have missed in your hurry.
I can’t list them all.

Don’t Applaud Too Quickly: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

Why are you in such/
a hurry to applaud? The/
last note is the best.

Or

Don’t be in such a/
hurry to applaud. The last/
note is the richest.

Originally titled: Utah Folks Applaud Too Quickly

Hurry Tomorrow: Romantic ConTEXTing Haiku

It could be the start/
of a new epic path. Please,/
hurry tomorrow!

Misty-Eyed In An Alpine Meadow: Revolutionary Email Prose Memory

I recently recalled a life-changing event which happened when I first lived in Switzerland in the late 70s. As I wrote about it in an email and have thought about it since, it’s interesting to see how much it reflects my life and belief system.

I once was, with a group of friends, running down a steep mountain trail in the Alps above Luzern. It had started to mist slightly as the clouds rose up off the Vierwaldstaedtersee and slammed into the mountainside.
And then, while my friends ran onward, something caught my ears. In the distance I could hear cowbells (mind you, this was well before “More Cowbell” became popular!). They were the varied notes of dozens of Alpine cowbells, all ringing in uncomposed, yet somehow perfect, harmony, through the mist.
I stopped running, and thought to myself: “When will I ever again have this moment? When will nature and man-made music collide to play this for me?” Instead of running willy-nilly through the Alpine meadows — which, I noticed for the first time, were in early May bloom –, I strolled.
Sauntered.
Sometimes stopped and listened and reflected and learned.
I arrived at the village nearly two hours after my hurried, running friends.
“You missed dinner!” they exclaimed.
Instead, I feasted on cheese, slice apples, and yogurt, which seemed to fit the afternoon.
I could never bear to tell them:
“You missed a world premier performance.”

What’s The Hurry? A Romantic Email Poem

What’s the hurry, you ask?

The hurry
is that
the flurry
of Matt,
Ed, and Bill
emails will fill
your void.
You’ll become annoyed
and disappear,
leaving me here,
wondering
what could have been.