2020 September 18

That is Jeff what I
do. Digitilized tablets
six of one, combust

able tablets half
of the other. I don’t trust
my translation tab

let to type when I
can’t read my handwriting, by
January I’ll

buy ink abandoned
next June when I don’t feel like
translating scribble

want type no edits
Wait, what, Ruth Bader Ginsberg’s
just died, diatribe

no, I’m laughing, glad
I’m not explaining why, glad
tomorrow morning

I’m not transcribing
wait what ruth bader ginsberg’s
died from ink to type

2020 September 17

It’s gone this version
Dead live, human talent
limited infinite combination

See what I’m doing
two-thirds a finished haiku
but live the third line of the stanza as sloppily as my life

I always think more
what who reads me thinks than think
about what I wrote

Reprogammed three times
every voice I hear I don’t
see a mouth move I’m

one two three four five
reliable narrator
look at me counting

2020 September 8

Bet honest unhinged
beats unhinged surveyed programmed
disingenuous

Disinformation
here’s me disinforming me
seven syllables

unhinged from rhythm
but I can count good. Kayfabe
(you knew I’d say that)

say the truth out loud
though it goes against our faith
(I’m talking to me)

code-tapping on pipes
insider wink, sacrifice
negotiated

unhinged from promise
but – this is key – in on it.
I’m talking to me

2020 August 28

I don’t feel haiku
tonight don’t feel ink type don’t
want reconsider

clusterfuck more side
ways than fucking yesterday
I expected more

from kayfabe breaking
People hoard polish tablet
tattoo promise, broken promise

over-promise ur
worship kayfabe abandon
kayfabe institute

new kayfabes my first
broken kayfabe a crucial
role in my certain

tea, my never wrong
insufferability.
I am 61

today. I know 8
syllables last line 4 stan
zas up, my gift to me