inner-city slum, the relaxed dive
consciences hibernate there
the fumes of cigarettes, booze and meth,
dried sweat-stink, grease-stained blankets
homeless misfits with measured oblivions
their hunger abiding in all dimensions
punctuated only by upheaval and
sometimes, you know, I miss it
yesterday, fucked up
today, fucking up again
tomorrow, well, probably
extra-special fuck-ups
and all of them,
it seems, in tune
small spider bite
moves me out of grim conceits
and back into this day
ayaz daryl nielsen, husband, father, veteran, x-roughneck (as on oil rigs)/hospice nurse, editor of bear creek haiku (25+ years/120+ issues), homes include Lilliput Review, Jellyfish Whispers, Boston Literary Magazine, Dead Snakes, Shamrock, and! bearcreekhaiku.blogspot.com (translates as joie de vivre)
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