TIM EASTON HAIKU 2024 I write a lot on my phone throughout the year. Sometimes these haiku lead to something like a bigger poem or a song, sometimes they are just brief thoughts I enter in the phone so I don't forget them. Here are all the haiku I wrote in 2024.
Last year was a dream
about joy, pain, happy, sad.
Like ev’ry year alive.
Painted a guitar
raven black, tuned to D
minor. Sunshine came.
Breakfast table light
hits me just right. Barely
need coffee, but do.
Stare at the sun
very early in the morn.
Rebirth of cave man.
Every day alive
is gold. Do not forget.
Laugh at the end.
I read Bukowski
to feel dirty wise again.
Carver, to remain clean.
I have a weird crush:
Montgomery, Alabam—
Boundless potential.
It occurred to me
that I am always busy.
Even when I’m not.
The reason I need
a strap for my guitar case:
cup of coffee on a train platform.
This game is called
“How long until I fall asleep
reading poetry?”
I opened the book
to page one. I was asleep
before the third word.
Stormy Irish night
leaves dramatic skies (and mind).
Already in love.
Love kickstarts obsession
like no other drug. Even if
it’s just fantasy.
It makes perfect sense
to fall hard for the Argentine
bookshop barista
Ongar 39-A rush hour bus
in front of Bestseller cafe.
You never saw me
but I sure saw you
lost in something
Amy Winehouse song
on the cafe PA system.
Closing time is soon.
The ennui arrived
coupled with despair and ire.
Ugly triplets.
When one is down
just wait around to help
someone else. Cured!
Any afternoon
without a proper siesta
can be a challenge
A hurried morning—
blue jay bouncing on the shed.
Birds are never late.
The creek is high
and so am I
cried the sloth
Reacting the same
when a quarrelsome scene arrives-
What has really changed?
All this writing I do
What’s the point of anythjng?
My daughter journals.
I’ve seen my daughter
writing steady in her journal.
Warm and fuzzy pride.
Honestly, I am
beyond broke. I am in debt.
I am also rich.
Wet weather settles
in the bones like fog covers hills.
Spring grass is growing.
Accomplished jazz
musicians make me wonder
if I am a musician at all.
Eager to teach,
the master musician schools me.
My head is a bass clef.
What do you call it
when you issued the warning yourself but did not heed?
How many laps around
TJ Maxx while two teenagers shop? Power walk.
We all know your lies.
Fear, not logic, controls judgement
Justice is on trial
After you’re awake
it’s hard to fall asleep
without succeeding
Went to the doctor
for my annual physical.
We laughed together.
Young mother reads along
with young daughter excited
to know words like “glorious.”
Bookstores call me more
than record stores—less angry
customers inside.
Spring full moon over
Kentucky’s Green River.
An Eagle spoke to me.
Small town America
nearly squashed accidental
mushroom experience.
Full super moon Monday.
House creaks in the wind.
Is Tennessee happy?
Bob Dylan still performs.
I hope I can do anything
at his age.
Easter is joyous
while also ridiculous.
Easier to love.
The coffee is hot.
I have a few minutes
to breathe, look out window.
Write every day.
Even one line adds up.
One year=Epic poem
Every day
that you do not write
is a wash of self pity
The best thing I did
for my writing was to commit
to at least one sentence per day.
How do I hold on?
“It’s easy,” you said,
“Just let go.”
Major journey ahead.
Same ambivalence each time.
I believe when I see.
Enjoy the river.
Ponds, lakes, lagoons—all good.
The ocean? Sure thing.
God is here to save us
from misery, despair, religion.
I don’t believe. I know.
Why did I open phone?
To kill some time, to write a poem. There is no dead time,
just wasted time.
Another bank,
another day in debt.
I did this.
Saturday in bed:
a sign of joyous life.
Sunday even more.
Emergency landing
at Disneyland with my Dad.
Yearning for youth?
JAPAN TOUR:
Flying to Japan.
Difficult to be angry
about anything.
Japan for two weeks.
Springtime school girls pass me
in the jet lagged morning.
May we never tire
of morning light through the trees.
Black birds calling.
I am determined
to learn something from darkness—
how to find light, at least.
Train station cafe.
Smokers gather with morning papers.
A bird sings outside.
Millions walking
a thousand different routes.
The heart of Tokyo.
Murakami books
are not predictable.
Just like baseball.
Masked women on trains:
mysterious, calm, cold.
Perfect nails tapping phones.
Visiting one shrine
does not make you enlightened,
nor can visiting one hundred.
Part time Buddhists
are quite annoying.
The mirror screams.
Traveling by train
on a Spring day in Japan.
Sashimi box; joy.
Steep climbs, curvy winds.
Infinite forest hiding spots.
Montains conjure outlaws.
Seaside to mountains
Springtime trains, buses, cars.
Bottled latte day.
Oh to possess
one tenth of the exhuberance
of the Japanese
Bullet trains calm me.
Sashimi box, green tea, sleep.
Hot knife through butter.
I am excited
for many things in this world.
Mostly canned coffee.
Curvy mountain roads.
Hot coffee on a full bus.
Springtime, green forest.
Bowing, thanking, smiling
infinite gratitude smiles.
Japanese goodbyes.
The ocean is calm.
Islands block waves.
Clouds forming.
Storm inside my head.
Books teach me.
I do not want to read.
I have to read.
Purple leaves glide
into a pool of water.
The death of flowers.
Starbucks is brimming
with beautiful women.
Spring flowers dying.
Japanese women
at Starbucks looking out windows
at flowers falling
Coffee shop woman
with perfect nails, Beatles shirt.
I don’t say a word.
Returning again
to watch petals fall in water.
Two dogs are meeting.
An 18 hour fiight
back in time to Tennessee.
Pun intended.
A few citizens
with loud, angry megaphones
keep Tennessee in chains.
When I told the Japanese
in Tennessee teachers
can carry guns:
speechless.
You do not need books
to teach you how to clean.
Just clean.
Father and daughter
on a train together.
Immense happiness.
I have not lived
a pure life, a wise life.
Real, wild, adventurous.
I want my daughter
to learn from my mistakes,
but mostly from her own.
I watched a lone cloud
float over the hill
I made the right decision.
Another twenty bucks
in the tank. Another phone
call from the bank.
Art museum.
Child points at bright chandelier.
Parents ignore, walk away.
Closed eyes, open eyes.
Walking by Lake Michigan.
Suddenly Summer.
Morning stroll in rain
under my Father’s umbrella.
Hot coffee, long walk.
Thirty four candidates
slain in Mexico. We carry on
doing all the drugs.
Barton Springs. Paradise
of cool water plunges,
tattooed backflips, joy.
Texas heat has me
walking in the mall.
When you cannot hike just shop.
Looking at moon craters
through telescope
next to my daughter
I don’t want to try.
I want to swim in river
when the moon is out.
Sit down.
Watch the birds eat the seeds. Breathe.
A hawk pounced
a mockingbird and gutted it
while the family swooped
to no avail.
Acceptance is easy
when your plane leaves on time.
Today, I fight calm.
Alaska my home
away from home. Please teach me how to be still.
Drag the lake for sound.
Trees speak quieter than rivers. Stolen cousin.
Help me stay awake
through surprise challenges.
Keep joy on my lips.
Put out all the buckets
to capture all the rain.
Still thirsty.
Staving off madness
by watching a child find wonder
in a plastic horse statue
A school shooter
is the same age as my daughter.
I want to walk forever.
Low desert quick soak
before accending mountain.
Long sleep ahead.
Helplessly watching
flood damage back home on screens
from Mojave desert
Looking at the desert
from an airplane
can make you forget why
you ever lived there
Colorado? Yes.
Alaska? Even better.
Why Tennessee?
Land Between The Lakes
Horses, bison, elk, snakes, birds.
Old cemeteries.
Temperature dropped
twenty degrees over twenty four
hours. Coffee tastes better.
Southern Mississippi
“Midnight rambler” on the box.
Call a friend. Check in.
Waiting for the shot
to protect me from the flu.
Science is cool.
At the post office
I try to be calm, hopefull.
Their days are harder.
Cajun music, food
dancing, culture, triangles
represent true love.
Louisiana
can feel like another land
rich with culture
November delta,
rainstorms, rolled up cotton.
A vast ocean of night.
Mississippi night
can go one of two ways:
Crazy fun, crazy.
I ordered salad.
I wanted the fries.
I asked for just a few fries
with my salad.
I notice when a song
feels out of place.
“All By Myself”
at Love’s Truck Stop
was perfectly in place.
Amsterdam again,
on board a train five minutes
after clearing customs
Bypassed Dutch train strike
with a lift to the airport.
Grateful troubadour.
Mallorcan sunset
casting shadows over long
goodbyes, kisses, goodbyes.
Barcelona streets,
tourists, thieves, jazz men, dumplings
taste best after hotel check-in.
Barcelona day.
Barcelona night. The sound
of rolling suitcases.
Lottery man smokes
on the corner in the morning.
in an old pirate town.
Old man smiles
singing Buenos Dias this morning
in Madrid
Lottery ticket
vendor in the train station
tries his best. No sale.
One sentence per day
is a reasonable goal.
Also impossible.
Spanish tour, sunny
every day but the last
in Zaragoza. Still the favorite.
Barcelona bookshop
courtyard cafe, beautiful trees.
A woman speaks loudly.
Joyous woman walks
away like she owns the joint.
What was I doing?
Pilot gives us facts.
Velocity at take off.
Didn’t need to know,
but glad I do.
British cunts in sweatpants
smoking weed outside Schiphol.
I was just like you once
Except for the sweatpants. Goal!
Back home, conflicted.
Happy in life, satisfied.
A beggar saw my eyes.
Sometimes I wonder
what happened to melodies
which eluded capture
Up early to “teach”
or be a substitute.
Not quite excited.
Writing gets jumbled
when you bag the narrative
voice for even one day
The first draft is cake
Just enjoy, let it flow.
Second draft pulls hair.
Living in fear
is sometimes impossible
to avoid. Prayer.
I write songs in the
middle of songs. I buy books
in the middle of books.
In bed with coffee
charting out Alaska tour.
Manuka honey.
It’s odd to have cancer
and also be in a great mood.
Let’s not question it!
Walking is the key.
Who knows what
the brain will cook
On any outing
Friend is drinking again.
His daughter is my daughter’s friend.
Nobody wins.
Just like that, the number
of people I’m praying for
has quadrupled
New Orleans in day
doesn't make my boots shake
like New Orleans at night