Parodies, Homages, Allusions

These poems, surprisingly enough, are all parodies, homages, or allusions to (mostly) well-known poems. Can you identify their progenitors? All poems published in Modern Haiku 38:3, Autumn 2007, except for “mime” (Cicada #20, 6:3, July 1994), “dust” (Woodnotes #13, Summer 1992), “what can happen now?” (Haiku Canada Review 2:2, October 2008), “after the puppet show” (Modern Haiku 44:2, Summer 2013), “spring breeze” (Modern Haiku 46:1, Winter–Spring 2015), and what computers feel and New Years Day (both published in Frogpond 23:3, Fall 2000 and in Countdown, the 2000 Haiku Poets of Northern California members’ anthology). See also “14 or 15 Combs.”

                                                                                                                                                for you going
                                                                                                                                                for me going
                                                                                                                                                two urinals

                                                                                                                                a bitter loss—
                                                                                                                                college football players
                                                                                                                                without any necks

                                                                                                                hermit crab:
                                                                                                                     out of its shell
                                                                                                                     out of itself

                                                                                                dust hovers above the road at sunset

                                                                                the parking lot gate


                                                September tide—
                                                how delightful to wade
                                                with Birkenstocks in hand

                                indigo sky—
                                there must be 14 or 15
                                cumulus clouds

                the street-corner preacher
                points the way
                with his Bible

what can happen now?
        in the forest
                a redwood has fallen

                                                                                                    after the puppet show the puppets

                spring breeze—
                the pull of her hand
                as we near the pot store

                                what computers feel,
                                clocks feel, I don’t know—
                                millennium’s end

                                                New Year’s Day—
                                                the computer keeps working
                                                I feel about average