Haikan Do It Two

The Perks Of Being A Gooseberry
Of course I want you
To be happy; but if that
Makes me feel worthless,

Unwanted, like a
Discarded Evening Standard…
Now I’m not so sure.

Maybe if your world
Were to fall apart, if your
Most perfect union

Were to crumble and
Fall about you in ruins,
I might feel better.

But what would that make
Me? Fucked up as I am, I
Still do love my friends.

To abandon that
For naught but schadenfreude?
I may as well be

Dead. If ever I
Sank to such depths, I would not
Deserve to live.

Be happy, my friends.
Some day I might be as well.
Till then, be happy.

——-

‘I no doubt deserved my enemies, but I don’t believe I deserved my friends.’ – Walt Whitman.

I believe this is from a letter Whitman wrote, but I couldn’t find the exact source. I’d be grateful if anyone could enlighten me on that point (or indeed enlighten me if it wasn’t in fact Whitman).

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Haikan Do It

I’ve wanted to do one of these for a long time. I started writing haiku a few years ago and I love the precision and elegance of the form. Condensing ideas into a tight space is about all that gets me through each day.

Words That Wake
Articulacy;
Night’s boon, sleep’s bane. Morpheus
Robbed to pay the Muse.

Four o’clock is no
Time to wander these narrow
Streets all by yourself.

Some nights they’re peaceful,
But those twice- and thrice-blessed nights
Are mere memories.

These streets tend rather
To be loud, messy…fun? Like
Riding a tiger.

But if I had to
Choose: my words, or peace of mind?
Coffee and a pen.

——-

“A word is dead
When it’s been said,
Some say.
I say it just
Begins to live
That day.”
― Emily Dickinson, LXXXIX