Civil Conundrum comes to Customs House

I just received excellent news regarding my poetry for the Civil Conundrum project.  My poems will soon be mounted and hung next to the photographs that inspired them at the Customs House Museum & Cultural Center in Clarksville, Tenn., as will the work of my collaborators, poet Randy Foster and poet/photographer Robert McCurley.  The show will run at Customs House November 2012 through January 2013.  More details to come!

Filtered Through Time Book Signing

You are invited to attend a book signing for the forthcoming Civil War fiction and poetry anthology Filtered Through Time.  My photographer/poet friends Randy Foster and Robert McCurley and I will be among the 50 featured authors at the event.

Sunday, Sept. 30th, from 2 to 5 p.m.
Williamson County Public Library
1314 Columbia Ave.
Franklin, TN
FREE

Bring a friend!

Congrats to My Partner in Rhyme

Congratulations are in order for my friend and fellow poet Randy Foster, co-author of my latest poetry chapbook, Sugar and Spice and Nothing That's Nice.  Randy was named one of four winners of this year's Tomato Art Fest tomato haiku contest! 

MATERial

My entries for the Tomato Art Fest's tomato haiku contest have been submitted.  As always, any good news will be posted here.  May the best material win!

Hot Haiku Action

I was happy to learn that the tomato haiku contest has returned to East Nashville's spicy Tomato Art Fest!  Stay tuned for more juicy details!

Processing Pain With Poetry

My latest post for The Space Between, "Processing Pain," is up today, featuring my poem "The Lord Giveth and His People Taketh Away."  Take a look!

(the cardinal)

the cardinal
sounding off
like the Fourth of July

with gratitude to Rebecca J. Davenport for a spectacular ending

Creativity and Courage Collide

My latest post for The Space Between, "The Moment That Inspiration and Courage Collide," is up today, featuring my poem "Universe or Bust."  Take a look!

Thank You

Thanks to all of you who attended Women's Work this afternoon. Special thanks to Andrea, Destiny, Joan, Randy and Rebecca for your support!

Mother's Day Poetry Event

I will be performing some of my poetry this Mother's Day at Nashville's sixth annual Women's Work festival. Come and enjoy an afternoon of original poetry and spoken word presented by lovely lady poets!

Sunday, May 13th, at 2:30 p.m.
Z. Alexander Looby Theater
Looby Branch Library
2301 Rosa L. Parks Blvd.
Nashville, TN
$5

For more information or to purchase tickets in advance, please visit the Tennessee Women's Theater Project online.

Gettin' Handsy

It was my pleasure to accept a recent invitation to serve as a contributor to the brand new arts blog The Space Between, from a poet's point of view.  Check out my debut TSB blog post, "Use Your Hands," which features my poem "Hands"!

National Poetry Month

On this, the last day of National Poetry Month, I'm rerunning an oldie, but a goodie.

When I Read a Good Poem

When I read a good poem,
I hold
each
word
for a
moment
in my mouth
before
---- moving
on to the next one, like
one
bite
of creme brulee
after
another.

Women's Work 2012

I've been invited to present my poetry at the sixth annual Women's Work festival on Sunday, May 13th. More details to come!

(Happiness is a)

Happiness is a
personal library stocked
with books yet unread.

Why Bother With Poetry

Why bother
with poetry?
Because you're
human.  And,
from time to time,
we humans need
to be reminded of
what's important
in life,
an invitation
to laugh at ourselves,
a spotlight on
injustice in the world,
and permission
to pause, reflect and wonder.

He Measures His Days With Trips to the Vending Machine (The Vending Machine King)

With a nod to T. S. Eliot

I've never known anyone
with such a devotion
to junk food.
Lays Classic Potato Chips,
Cheddar & Sour Cream Ruffles,
peanut butter and cheese crackers,
plain chocolate M&M's.
He loves them all.
He's even been known to
chomp through a bag of
Fiery Habanero Doritos
at 9:30 a.m.
Add Coca-Cola after
countless Coca-Cola,
and you'll have
a snapshot of
his workday,
from coin to crunch.

The Definition of Insanity Turned on Its Head

If we were all born
with different genetics --
different hair
textures, hues and thicknesses,
different eye
colors, shapes and sizes,
different nose,
breast and chest guises,
different skin tones,
and cheek bones
and ear lobes,
different lips and hips and dips,
different metabolisms,
heights and body types --
why do we,
in all our glorious variety,
seek to shed our delicious diversity
in order to adhere to
one "standard" of beauty or identity?

(She doesn't know that)

She doesn't know that
I write haiku about her
bathroom behavior.

Haiku Help

Which version do you prefer?

1
lady who rocked the
elephant fart burst out of
her stall like a bull

2
lady who rocked the
elephant fart shot out of
her stall like a mouse

Droppings

I really hope
that the woman who used
the bathroom before me
was eating (and dropping)
chocolate
in the stall...

Uncomfortable With Life

A Preference for Plastic Pleasure

There is a growing contingent
of people these days
who seem to be
uncomfortable with life.
Not uncomfortable
due to the ugly, painful
realities of life --
breakups, cancer, crime --
uncomfortable with the
beautiful, pain free
moments of life.
Uncomfortable having an
old-fashioned, face-to-face
conversation with a good friend
without fiddling with
their BlackBerry.
Uncomfortable taking a walk
without monitoring their
Smartphone for the latest
Amazon deal.
Rather than witnessing
a gorgeous sunset with the family,
they are the folks
sitting on the porch swing
surrounded by their loved ones,
but focusing on their iPhones,
playing Words With Friends
without speaking a single
syllable to their own flesh and blood.

(real love: standing in)

real love: standing in
the bathroom while your partner
poops, just to catch up

News to Beat the Blues

I am pleased to report that I now have one less rejection letter to my name!  My poems "I'll Be Here" and "Instruments of War" will be published in the forthcoming book Filtered Through Time, an anthology of original fiction and poetry reflecting how a variety of traditions and reactions to the Civil War have come down through the generations for 150 years.  More details to come!

(The duck swimming in)

The duck swimming in
the empty pool doesn't know
the pool's not for him.

The Poet's Job

The poet's job is to remind us what is most important in life, to help us laugh at ourselves, to highlight injustice, to cause us to pause, reflect and wonder.

Civil Conundrum Clips

For those of you who were unable to attend Saturday's Civil Conundrum performance (or for those of you who care to revisit the harrowing, humorous presentation), clips of the program can be viewed here.

The Art of Great Company

Thank you to all of you who attended today's performance at The Arts Company.  What a great group that gathered; what a great gallery!  Special thanks to Betsy, Carolyn, Chris, the Hardins, Joan, Josh, Joy, Rebecca and Sarah for their support!  A very special thanks to my partner in rhyme, Randy Foster, and especially to photographer Robert McCurley, who inspired the entire presentation.

You are invited!

Civil Conundrum
~ Civil War poetry by Randy Foster, Amy E. Hall and Robert McCurley, inspired by the photographs of Robert McCurley ~

Join us for a performance that promises to be both harrowing and humorous!

Saturday, Feb. 11th, from 2 to 3 p.m.
The Arts Company
215 5th Ave. of the Arts
Nashville, TN  37219

* Admission is free, but reservations are required.  RSVP to art@theartscompany.com or call 615.254.2040. *

Civil Conundrum Coverage

My current project, Civil Conundrum -- a collaborative photography-poetry program with Robert McCurley and Randy Foster, was covered in the Nashville Scene's latest issue.  Civil Conundrum is part of a larger exhibit called The South Through Eight Lenses & a Code.  For more information, visit The Arts Company's current exhibition page.

(ban on "bored" meetings)

ban on "bored" meetings:
espresso, shortbread cookies;
jazz records on low

In This Wow

Have you ever
held a book
in your hands
that felt so right?
A book that
felt perfect,
and supple
and soft, but
firm in all the right places?
A book that
belongs
in your hands
at this moment;
at this time?
A book that
was written
years ago
but was meant
for you
right here; right now?
A book that,
in this moment,
makes time and space
make sense
in this place,
in this moment,
in this now?

(always worrisome)

always worrisome:
unexplained droplets on the
floor next to the john

Tennessean previews my latest project

Photographer Robert McCurley has asked Randy Foster and me to collaborate on a photo-poetry project re: the Civil War.  Sneak a peek at The Tennessean's preview here.  More details to come!

(Miles Davis on tap)

Miles Davis on tap
grape juice in the stereo
a New Year's Eve day

(Christmas cat)

Christmas cat –
bedside greeting
begins with a pounce

I Love Snow

for Julie

I remember
the Christmas
that you and I
mended our friendship.
You wore a
cool, retro
fur coat
and we walked to
the park across
the street from
Debbie's house.
That night we
laughed and sang
about snow
with the Christmas
lights shining
behind us
and the future bright;
ahead of us.

A Taste of the Tour

Randy Foster and I captured some footage at our last stop on the "A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar" tour.  Although our beverage banter heats up when Randy, a master mocha mocker, and I, a loyal latte lover, discuss coffee, we agree that Earl Grey tea deserves a poem of its own.  Click here for a taste of our ode to Earl Grey.

(“Beware,” I whispered)

"Beware," I whispered,
as she entered the wash room
and I darted out.

(You had the chili)

"You had the chili
today?" I asked, as the next
stall got noisier.

Poetry and coffee and tea! Oh, my!

Thank you to all of you who attended yesterday's reading at The Jam Coffee House.  Special thanks to Bob, Dean, Kate, the Lodls, Rebecca and Rob for their support!

You are invited!

Join master mocha mocker Randy Foster and me, a loyal latte lover, for a funny, friendly war of words at The Jam Coffee House, as we continue our "A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar" poetry tour!

Saturday, Oct. 29th, from 5 to 6 p.m.

The Jam Coffee House

1210 Wedgewood Ave.

Nashville, TN  37212

The performance will conclude with a drawing for a coffee- (or tea-) themed prize!

Monkeys and poetry and froth! Oh, my!

Thank you to all of you who attended yesterday's reading at The Frothy Monkey.  Special thanks to Alejandro, Carolyn, Lauren, Radhika, Rebecca and Sandy for their support!

You are invited!

Join master mocha mocker Randy Foster and me, a loyal latte lover, for a funny, friendly war of words at The Frothy Monkey, as we continue our "A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar" poetry tour!

Sunday, Oct. 23rd, from 4 to 5 p.m.
The Frothy Monkey
2509 12th Ave. S.
Nashville, TN  37204

The performance will conclude with a drawing for a coffee- (or tea-) themed prize!

Arrears

Dear Co-worker:

Your poop stain in your underwear
is your problem.
Your poop stain on the office toilet seat
is my problem.

Regards (despite your lack thereof),
Amy

Bookings a-Brewing

Randy Foster and I are currently booking the fall leg of our A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar... tea and coffee poetry tour.  Stay tuned for details!  You can also follow the tour as it unfolds and view photos, updates and more here.

(cardinal bathing)

cardinal bathing
under the coffee shop's
downspout

(The German Queens wave)

I was disappointed to learn that East Nashville's Tomato Art Fest does not include the Hot Tomato Haiku Contest this year.  I enjoyed writing the following piece while still hoping the festival would add the contest to their lineup.

The German Queens wave
red flags and boas brave from
a Germantown rave.

Another Work Poem

In Memoriam: This is the third in a series honoring the soon-to-be defunct Borders bookstore.  While at work, I often daydream about escaping to a bookstore or coffee shop.

I write my best
poems at work on
company stationary
and company time
on rainy Fridays when
all I want to do is
escape to a coffee shop
or bookstore and sip
the day away surrounded
by books, magazines
and literary dreams.

Note: This is one of the pieces featured in my latest chapbook, Sugar and Spice and Nothing That's Nice, a collection of tea and coffee poems co-authored by Randy Foster.

Bookstore Boar

In Memoriam: This is the second in a series honoring the soon-to-be defunct Borders bookstore.  I wrote this poem a few years ago in the Brentwood (Tenn.) Borders cafe.

"We have a no-snoring
policy," she assured me
from behind the counter.
The large man in the
true blue sweat suit and
camouflaged vest had been
disturbing my reading for
10 minutes and counting.
The deep, nasal vacuum
vortex sounded more like
an industrial machine
than a man. The barista
called for the manager
as I angrily took out
my notebook to write.

Bookstore

In Memoriam: I wrote this poem a few years ago in Borders about Borders.  I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the end of the bookstore's era.

The silence of readers reading,
the screech of the espresso machine,
the whispered conversations shared
between bites of bagel, biscotti and bisque,
each one a part of the quiet community --
learning, leaning and listening.

Note: This is one of the pieces featured in my latest chapbook, Sugar and Spice and Nothing That's Nice, a collection of tea and coffee poems co-authored by Randy Foster.

I Am Abuzz

I feel as if
the windows to the world
have been thrown open, like
french doors flung wide
to reveal before me
oceans once unseen
countless hills of green
and a slate scrubbed clean.

Thank You

Thanks to all of you who attended the fourth stop on our tea and coffee tour this afternoon.  Special thanks to Alyssa, Brandi, Chris, Greg, the Hardins and Joy for their support!

(He bites his hangnails)

He bites his hangnails
and spits them out next to me
during staff meetings.

Touring and Pouring

Randy Foster and I look forward to the next stop on our tea and coffee poetry tour:

The "A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar..." Tour
Saturday, July 9th, from 2 to 3 p.m.
Music City Java & Juice
The Factory at Franklin
230 Franklin Road #11A
Franklin, TN  37064
(615) 435-3694

Come and join us for tea, poetry, coffee, toffee and more...as we pour!

A Note of Thanks

Thanks to all of you who attended the third installment of our tea and coffee tour this afternoon.  Special thanks to Cory, Joy, Lindsay, Mitzi and Rebecca for their support!

The Tea and Coffee Tour Continues

Join us for more bitter and sweet poems, as well as terrific beverages at the third stop on the poetry tour dripping with both disdain and delight!

The "A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar" Tour
Saturday, June 18th, from 2 to 3 p.m.
The Good Cup
2181 Hillsboro Road
Franklin, TN  37069
(615) 591-2326

Universe or Bust

I feel like
there are a million
helium balloons
inside of me
waiting to be released
into the world --
stories and statements,
ideas and innovations,
poems and proclamations.
They bounce against
the ceiling of my
heart and mind,
each bulging, beckoning and begging
to be next in line
to launch into legacy;
my life's legendry.

Those That Thirst Will Be Filled

Thanks to all of you who attended the second installment of our tea and coffee tour this evening.  Special thanks to the Fosters, the Hardins and Rebecca for their support!

The "A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar" Tour Continues

The next stop on the tea and coffee poetry tour will be as follows:

The "A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar" Tour
Saturday, May 21st, from 7 to 8 p.m. 
Maxximo Jo's Coffee
1212 Murfreesboro Road
Franklin, TN  37064
(615) 791-9822

Join us for bitter and sweet poetry, fantastic drinks, and arguably the best homemade gelato in town!

Thank You to the Thirsty

Thanks to all of you who attended the debut of our tea and coffee tour on Saturday afternoon.  Special thanks to the Grimeses, Joan, the McCurleys, Rebecca, the Rowes and the Woodards for their support!

The "A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar" Tour Kickoff

Randy Foster and I will kick off our coffee house tour this Saturday at The Coffee Beanery in Franklin, Tenn!  We will be reading our bitter and sweet, naughty and nice poems about tea and coffee.  Come and enjoy a performance dripping with disdain and delight!  Copies of our brand new chapbook, Sugar and Spice and Nothing That's Nice, will be available for purchase, as well as Coffee Beanery's delicious assortment of sandwiches, drinks and desserts.

The "A Poet and a Politician Walk into a Coffee Bar" Tour
Saturday, May 14th, from 2 to 3 p.m.
The Coffee Beanery
1010 Murfreesboro Road
Franklin, TN  37064
(615) 790-9553

We hope to see you there!

Thank You

Thanks to all of you who attended Women's Work this afternoon. Special thanks to Greg, Joan, Joy, Julie, Lindsay, Melissa, Rachel, Randy, Rebecca and Sarah for their support!

Poetry Performance This Sunday

I will be presenting some of my poetry this Sunday at Nashville's fifth annual Women's Work festival. Come and enjoy an afternoon of original poetry and spoken word presented by lovely lady poets!

Sunday, May 8, at 2:30 p.m.
Z. Alexander Looby Theater
Looby Branch Library
2301 Rosa L. Parks Blvd.
Nashville, TN
$5

For more information or to purchase tickets in advance, visit the Tennessee Women's Theater Project online.

Tennessean Covered Women's Work

The Tennessean ran a story on this month's Women's Work festival yesterday and I was lucky enough to be included in the piece!

National Poetry Month comes to a close

On this, the last day of National Poetry Month, I wanted to repost one of my answers to the question "Why write poetry?"

The Reason I Write Poetry

I notice things --
everything.

Then I get

lost in thought

about them --

why they're done,

how often

and by whom --

sometimes

at the most

inopportune times --

during a meeting

with a co-worker,

my tax advisor

or the dentist.

And then I feel

the need to

capture my thoughts

on paper --

so I won't forget them.

And, on most days,

I have just enough

arrogance

to share what I've

put into writing

with someone else,

perhaps to validate

that I'm, in fact, alive.

Brand New Poetry Chapbook Out Today

My fourth chapbook, a collection of tea and coffee poems co-authored by my friend and fellow poet Randy Foster, is available as of today!  Sugar and Spice and Nothing That's Nice: Where Bitter Meets Sweet features naughty and nice pieces about caffeinated beverages that will have you buzzing with delight!  To find out how you can purchase your copy of Sugar and Spice, contact me at hall_amy_e@hotmail.com.  Drink well!

Poached by an Egg

Finished the last of
the hard-boiled eggs
this morning and
stabbed my thumb --
the shell shards
actually drawing blood.
I never knew
Easter eggs could
be so violent.

Happy National Poetry Month!

In honor of National Poetry Month, I'm rerunning an oldie, but a goodie.

When I Read a Good Poem

When I read a good poem,
I hold
each
word
for a
moment
in my mouth
before
---- moving
on to the next one, like
one
bite
of creme brulee
after
another.

Women's Work 2011

I've been invited to present my poetry at the fifth annual Women's Work festival on Sunday, May 8th. More details to come!

(talking to herself)

talking to herself
two stalls down -- no Bluetooth
headset in sight

Vowels and Bowels

I hate it when

you know you're

going to have to

poop soon, but not yet,

and you're on your way

to work

(or a court date

or a TV interview).

You know it's coming

soon, but you don't know

how soon.

You could be

in the middle of a

sentence in meeting

when, suddenly,

your stomach begins

to churn and

your bowels begin

to burn.

You can't always

escape to a restroom

the moment you need one.

You try to smile and

continue your interview

(or conference call

or cross examination)

with some modicum

of decorum, but

all you can think of is

"POOP!"

All you want to do

is find a nice,

secluded stall

and let it fly.

Instead, you're stuck

in a light brown room

expected to string turds

(I mean words)

together intelligently

with a pile

(I mean smile).

(such a young woman)

such a young woman
wearing such an old fragrance

While Listening to Julie Lee's "The Other Half"

Which version do you like best?

(original version)

I got chills
when I heard
your voice.
And then my eyes
began to water.
A tiny firework
went off
in my heart.
And then
the muted trumpet
came in.
I closed my eyes
and got lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(alternate version)

The sparse
guitar work
set the mood.
I took a deep breath.
And then
the muted trumpet
came in.
I got chills
from my shoulders
to my ankles
when I heard your voice.
My eyes
began to water
and a tiny
firework
exploded somewhere
in my chest.
I shook my head,
closed my eyes
and got lost.

You can check out Julie Lee's music here.

Untimely Departure (Cat Got Your Dung)

Sometimes
Mother Nature calls
at the most
inopportune times.
I get up early
so that I can
get to work early.
But Mother Nature
interrupts my plan
with an exit strategy
of her own.
Once I honor her urging
and take a seat,
just a few moments
into our session,
she decides to be
difficult and stubborn.
My extra minutes

waste away

and my momentum slows
to a screeching
halt.

I will not be

early today
thanks to the delay
down under.
I am stalled
and stuck
and stationed
on the stool
for as long as it takes
for Mother Nature
to drop her kids off
at the pool.
And eventually,
once I finally
arrive at work,
I search for a
truthful, yet tactful
explanation for my
late state of affairs.
I could say,
"Traffic was stuck;
nothing was moving."
But, I settle on
"an urgent call
from my mother"
and leave it at that.

The Hall Sisters: Circa 1994

We knew our

whole world

was about to change.

I cried the entire

four-hour trip

to campus

and the two of you

held each other
in the living room

all morning.

We were

letting go of life

as we knew it,

knowing that we

would survive

the changes ahead
but not knowing
exactly how.

We had been together

all of our lives --

through every move,

in every new house

and every new city.

We shared friends and

hobbies and teachers.

Now we would be

in different states

with 207 miles between us.

I opened your letters

like beautifully

wrapped packages

and read each one

between nose blowing

and cheek dabbing.

I think I used

an entire box

of Kleenex

driving up to Michigan,

thankful that I didn't

decide to go to school

in Portland.

Just One of Those Things

It's strange --
funny, really --

that one

woman can

walk into

the restroom,

lock her

stall door,

create a

mammoth sound

from one

tiny hole,

and walk

out of

the bathroom
in silence.

Holy Sit

When I take my seat
in the bathroom,

I am participating

in one of the most basic,

yet marvelous

human functionalities.

We have been created

with a remarkable

self-cleaning service.

(Who but a master

designer would have

conceived of this?)

So, when I sit

on the john and

take a dump,

something holy

is happening.

I am at once

connected to the

brother and sister hoods

of the earth

and to God.

Jitters

It didn't last long.
And I'm sure

the sterile, hospital-

flavored walls and

floors didn't help.

The java joint's decor

was more akin

to a church

romper room

than a hip, cozy hang.

Failures aside,

every time I pass

that office space

in my college town,

I remember the

Styrofoam cups of

espresso I drank there

with my rock

band buddies

as we played

Uno and laughed

'til closing time.

(orange passion fruit)

orange, passion fruit;

jasmine green tea -- like sipping

sunshine in a cup

Fresh and in the Can

Sometimes I just know
a poem's about to drop.
It's a feeling not unlike
the feeling I get
when my bowels are about
to move -- a bottoming out
type of sensation
that tells me
I better find
a piece of paper
(or a toilet) fast
because something's
about to plop out.
Sometimes I get that
nervous panicky feeling
when it's "time"
and I can't seem
to find any paper
(or a toilet).
My breathing gets shallow,
my armpits begin to sweat
and my mouth gets dry.

Ever notice that a
delayed delivery
results in nothing but
a constipated effort later?
The more it's postponed,
the more plugged up it gets.
It's better to let nature
take its course
while the urge is fresh.
Things move a lot

more freely that way.

Fortunately, more
times than not,
I find what I need
just in time
to avoid a blockage.

The Reason I Write Poetry

I notice things --
everything.

Then I get

lost in thought

about them --

why they're done,

how often

and by whom --

sometimes

at the most

inopportune times --

during a meeting

with a co-worker,

my tax advisor

or the dentist.

And then I feel

the need to

capture my thoughts

on paper --

so I won't forget them.

And, on most days,

I have just enough

arrogance

to share what I've

put into writing

with someone else,

perhaps to validate

that I'm, in fact, alive.

(As she entered the)

As she entered the

ladies' restroom, I whispered,

"I didn't do it."

The Mayan Mocha

Like Pop Rocks --
starts out sweet
and explodes in your mouth

Baptismal Brew

I've been told
that I behave like
Satan's handmaiden
before I have my
morning coffee.
My emotions
do a demon drop,
my fingertips
begin to itch
and my head spins around
like the bride of Chucky.
After the first few sips
of the redemptive brew,
I am baptized
into new life
or, at least,
a new day.

Cryptic Residents

On bad days,
apartment living
can feel like life
in a mausoleum.
Sandwiched in between
crumby people,
you're stuck in a
slot above and
below folks that
you don't know.
Some days stink
more than others.
Some days you have
grave concerns
about your neighbors.
Other days, you're
dead wrong about them.
Every so often you
may be scared stiff.
Occasionally, you can
rest in peace,
knowing that
the days will pass
without too much
heartache.

Tough Stuff

I know life is hard
and that things can be
particularly rough
in the bathroom.
But do you really need
to vocally testify
to your difficulty
in the office restroom?
There is such a thing
as quiet desperation.
I wish for you a
silent elimination,
and for myself,
emancipation
from your proclamation.

(hearing the big blast)

hearing the big blast,
grateful I exited the
ladies room intact

(trailing the attorney)

trailing the attorney
choking on the perfume
I wore in high school

(IT programmer)

IT programmer
digging for major boogers

in his cubicle

Seasonal Criminals

There's something about
summertime sandals --

they're too much

to handle

when it comes to

the stench that

sweaty feet and

leather create.

My nostrils don't

celebrate or salivate about

the smell that emanates

from the partnership

that perpetrates

heinous crimes
against olfactory.

Dreamboats That Pass in the Night

Last night I dreamt
that you were into me.
Out of the blue,
you knew what to do
to influence me.
Truth is, we're married
to other people
and I've never thought
of you like that before.
Somehow last night's dream
opened up some subconscious door.
This morning I saw you
at your desk and felt
a strange connection.
It'll pass in a few days,
just like the indignation
and exasperation
I felt toward the
co-worker I once dreamt
cheated on his wife
with my little sister.

Friday Afternoon Fever

It's amazing how creative
one can be when
procrastinating.
On Friday afternoon
at 3:17, my co-workers
and I walk around
like lost children,
shifting from desk,
to break room,
to bathroom,
to the god-forsaken
basement
(in extreme cases).
Non-smokers consider
taking up nicotine
as they watch the smokers
congregate under the trees.
"That doesn't look half
bad," my manager quips
as he observes the
addicts' 15 minutes of
freedom
"on the outside."
Back at our desks, we
try to drum up small
talk about
The Golden Girls,
The Office, and
Saturday Night Live;
then return to our
monitors for more
Web surfing.
The neighbor in the
cube next door mutters,
"It feels like we've been
here for six days…
and that's just since
eight o'clock."
Eventually, five o'clock
will arrive, saving us from
overdoses on bad coffee,
stale corn chips and
shoddy Web sites.

Hot Tomato Haiku Contest Entry #8

What do you call five
year olds with gentle green thumbs?
Tendergardeners.

Hot Tomato Haiku Contest Entry #7

What do tomatoes
and kindergartners have in
common? Cut and paste.

Hot Tomato Haiku Contest Entry #6

birth from the earth, red
as placenta, inside the
new life -- tiny seeds

Hot Tomato Haiku Contest Entry #5

earth MATERial
symbol of MATERnity
red MATÉRiel

Hot Tomato Haiku Contest Entry #4

Launch me in the air
but watch your back. I'll turn you
red when I go splat.

Hot Tomato Haiku Contest Entry #3

I am weaponry
like snowballs and grenades but
make tastier raids.

Hot Tomato Haiku Contest Entry #2

Stew wined and dined her
even though Brandy was a
bit dicey that day.

Hot Tomato Haiku Contest Entry #1

Brandy was green with
envy -- Stew inherited
the favored heirloom.