I think my poetry rocks!/
But is it filling up your inbox?/
Or is it just funny/
that you get so many?

Sitting on yer deck,/
what’s nice is:/
I can replace/
1 of yer vices./
With 1 hand holding wine,/
the other holding mine,/
there’s no reason/
4 tobacco 2b pleasin’.

R U out on yer deck/
pollen coated; morning dew wet?/
Listening 2 frogs/
sing love songs/
in their bog?/
I wish I was there, 2,/
listening again 2/
love songs with u.

I get that Ur scared./
I get that U doubt./
I get that Ur not prepared/
4 what this can b about./
I get that, bcuz I get that way 2./
Just an example/
of how I get U.

O! that there r flowers/
that bloom in nite hours!/
That send their scent/
2 where u in dreamland went;/
2 there festoon yer mind/
with thots gentle, sweet and kind.

Waiting for response,/
I learned how easily I/
could quit my searching.

Am i coming on/
too strong? A bold Tsunami/
creates destiny.

Before I sent ‘her’ this Haiku (she’d asked me to go to a Drive-In in Wallingford/Seattle) I wrote this:
I’ve never been invited to a first meetup
by a woman before.
(Nor a man, for that matter).
I would be foolish to say no.
If, after sitting in the car
(and we can sit topless in mine, if you prefer… if the sun is out),
you decide you like me, perhaps we can:

Wander through Wallingford,
staring at shops,
browsing books,
bending and pretending
we are erudite urbanites.
PS: What time?
(no rhyme).

Then, after she was a “no show” that Sunday morning, I wrote:

I guess suggesting/
going topless, after church,/
at Dick’s was too much.

When I sent ‘her’ this Haiku, I attached something else as well
I somehow thought you/
might enjoy this sad haiku/
I wrote about you.

There is no deep hurt/
but that can be made inert/
by the shove of love.

If i ask correctly/
and politely/
if U’ll go out with me,/
spend time 2c/
what we/
2gether can do,/
tell me true:/
Will U?/
4 there is no hurt/
that can’t b made inert.