Getting Up To Wash My Face: Romantic Improv Haiku

I can wash my face,/
but I cannot clean up my /
memories of you.
4:05 a.m. Singapore time

At Last, Rain: Revolutionary ConTEXTing Haiku

Tired smokejumpers look/
heavenward and let rain wash/
ash-blackened faces.

Washing Away Memories: Revolutionary Blogging Haiku

I’ll wash scented sheets./
Memories, I’m sure, take much,/
longer to vanquish.

Shedding A Stinky Parka: Revolutionary IMprov Poetry

I wore my old stinky parka
because I was afraid of freezing.
Then, one day, I felt the warmth
of the sun on my face.

So I unzipped it,
pulled it off,
threw it away,
and stood there in my swim trunks and t-shirt.

And the sun was warm,
and the air was calm,
and though the lake still had ice,
the geese were flying north.

I jumped in
over my head,
and washed myself
in the frigid water.

And when I climbed out over the
slippery, ice-covered rocks,
I was clean, and refreshed,
and alive, and warm.

I left my stinky parka by the shore
and walked away.
The stink wasn’t on me.
It was something I carried.

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