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
                                                                                rises
                                                                                falls


                                                                mime
                                                                jumping
                                                                frog


                                                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