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), the second version of “the street-corner preacher” (Skylark 6:1, Summer 2018), “snake” (The Heron’s Nest XXIII:1, March 2021), “asked about the hospital” (Modern Haiku XXIX:2, Summer 1998), “not seeing the green wheat” (Moongarlic #4, May 2015), and “fresh sourdough” (in “Discover Haiku in San Francisco” video, August 2024, with my voice-over, included at the end). 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

the street-corner preacher

points the way

with his tablet

snake

out of its skin

out of itself

asked about the hospital

the old woman gestures to it

with her cigarette

not seeing the green wheat

till that one

red barn +

fresh sourdough . . .

even in San Francisco

I long for San Francisco