GPNW: House Guest Haikus

By Daniel Wood:

a screen door
and a porch to smoke on --
the better part of home

two hours in the car
my navigator agrees --
that cloud looks like a dragon.

crooked night streets
voices from the backseat
every name a direction

if I could only
perch a bird so carefully
on her shoulder, then

red wine in white cups --
the glasses were already full
with gods

eyes closed
around the table, listening
to the panic of love

half asleep in
the cool basement --
giggles from the curtained room

silver & light --
my sister has a knife, but I've
got her back

the machine waits,
surrounded
by photographs of our escape

back in the 90s again --
skater punks, Nirvana hoodies,
that old horniness

standing at the window
admiring the calves
of your red-headed neighbour

Go Play Northwest

I am still decompressing a lot from this weekend. A ton of good, and some troubling and murky not-so-great.

Soon, after more thought and dialogue, I'll post reflections, AP, feelings, you name it.

For now? Still happily exhausted. Thanks to all who helped make this weekend fantastic.