Reader Submission: A Modest Submission from 6feet1

From the very funny 6feet1, who occasionally rants here:

Friend, that subway pole
Is not yours. Hands only, please.
Are you a stripper?


Ah yes, the subway pole dance. As someone who tries really hard not to touch anything on the subway, I don't understand the people who wrap their entire bodies around the pole.

Reader Submission from Deb in NYC

A haiku about someone at work:

Her heart radiates
Warmth like an old gym sock that
Somebody pooped in

Well. We all know someone like that.

Reader submission from my favorite mathemetician

You may have noticed that I haven't been posting lately. I have a good reason. I have pneumonia. I'm feeling pretty miserable, but here is a little something from my friend Xander that made me feel better:

Please feel better soon
Nobody likes dead lawyers
Or at least not us

Reader Submission: It Runs in the Family

Have I mentioned that my mom is an excellent haiku-ist? Check this out:

A loud joyous cheer
Is heard from friends far and wide
You both passed the bar

How cute is she?

From a commuting flight attendant

You can never tell
Inside the Holland Tunnel
If it's day or night


(I've always thought the Holland and Lincoln Tunnels were kind of terrifying--and I've only gone through them as a passenger.)

From Someone Who Didn't See Anything, Anywhere, obviously

A long, grey snakeskin
Outside the mafia bar
It appears empty

(The awesomeness of this haiku speaks for itself.)

From Sara in Brooklyn: SHE's not afraid to ask the tough questions

doc bronner's mint soap:
invigorates for sure, but
does it get me clean?

(Sara: the religious rants on the Dr. Bronner's bottle amuse/baffle me so much that its cleaning power has become secondary.)

From Anonymous, Somewhere in Canada

Piles of tiny clothes
Lay unworn in unused cribs.
Third time's the charm, right?

(If you have a moment, please send some positive thoughts toward the Great White North.)

From Erik, Brooklyn

A suspicious eye
Cast at the gray birds above
Please don't poop on me

From Xander, Montreal: On Olympic Hockey

I'm American,
but I live in Canada.
Who do I root for?

From Grama in South Wales, NY

I live in a place
That has multitudes of stars
And sometimes fireflies

(It must run in the family. This is a submission from my mom, who has only recently revealed her secret talent for haiku.)

From Xander, Montreal

where is it written
that poems cannot have
silent syllables

From Chicago in Winter

Kermit the Frog green
Your beret seems so cheerful
Too bad it’s a lie

From Alana, Montreal: an update

The lonely fruit fly
Has found himself a partner
And now we have three

Reader Submission; Daniela, Macedonia

Red bus full of dust
Took me nowhere, yet my mind
Told me a haiku

From Less is More, Brooklyn, NY

Subway Hand Pole Dance:

oops, did i just make
it hard for you to hang on?
thoughtful, silent shift.

From Alana, Montreal

A single fruit fly
Stuck indoors in the winter
A sad, sexless life

Too good to languish in the comments section

I am so taken with Adairdevil's haiku, originally posted in the comments section for yesterday's entry, that I had to re-publish it here:

I am short, and so
Must ride this subway in your
Armpit of sorrow

Adairdevil
Brooklyn, NY

Reader Submission: Daniela, Macedonia

Rainbow hanging on
The old window, adorned
With the gray raindrops


Written and translated from Macedonian by Daniela from Macedonia