Floated-Outside-It Haiku

William Keckler
2 min readApr 9, 2019

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gentle rain
into the river
barely talking

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meteor shower
somehow somehow
the promise

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having died
long before this Monet
we’re evenly matched

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distant night train
an egg’s armor
begins to crack

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green peeling staircase
paint every year
greener in memory

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invisible girl
orange peels
for a city block

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finding purple shells
low tide babbling
in our purple prose

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watch a snake…
imagine it with hands
cracking its rosary

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a loving mother
eats her children’s
gnat clouds

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t.v. news
moth’s searing love of the bulb–
forgotten safeword

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before he jumps, his joy
knowing a dark river
feels nothing

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antifreeze leaks
the moon’s reflection
in a cold puddle

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you wake to a mirror
speaking an unknown dialect
of moonlight

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distant gunshot
so far away the sound
a lid crawling off

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soft shell crab night–
we hear someone
eating a coffin

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bacon strip
you eat a pig’s burn
ape orgasm

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high school years later
lab’s floating pig fetus
only face i recall

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buying meal worms on credit
he realizes his children
are watching

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dark parked car
playing Bizet for fireflies
no one else

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Christmas morning
dark centuries
open their presence

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walking home alone
leaving drunk fireflies clearly
trying too hard

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waking at night
promising darkness
things, things

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fireflies
just seem to want more
every year

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night airport
tired moonlight
coming and going

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bales of hay
the crow at morning
a preacher

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crickets in frost
cross the same field as me
as zero

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dark autumn pond
reflections misquoting
like the rest of us

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night hires
standing at the door
more reptile jackets

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shuttered GOLD’s gym
geese preen in the lot
clones stretching

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summer pond
child asks a small fish:
“which one’s your mother?”

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beery winds
through dark branches
of downtown trees

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twenty minnows
swam into me tonight
then a huge moon

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balcony slouching a woman slouching there on it made of straw

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desert winds
tree widows their branches
moaning Kama Sutra

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two story trees
violet membranes
bottled-up in paint

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abandoned merely
cuz she is a skeleton
poor tree

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juicy plum
(the joke in stars)
anything waits

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spring breeze
you suddenly realize
he’s older on top

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charles schwab
downtown wall fakes
lower case airs

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William Keckler
William Keckler

Written by William Keckler

Writer, visual artist. Books include Sanskrit of the Body, which won in the U.S. National Poetry Series (Penguin). https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/532348.

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