I will post other daily writings when I get a chance:

cookies for santa the outlines of stars left on the parchment paper

if there is another earth the only hope for its survival is for us to never reach its shores


(This haikutrax should be on one line. The parameters for this
template do not permit me to adjust the margin widths, and I don't
want to make the font any smaller.)

first frost a dusting of powdered sugar to sweeten the skull cookies

apple picking after an hour they all look good to me

october drought I live by the sky that shrinks with the pond

springing into fall bloom maybe there is no wrong season for azaleas

changing its tune the comb with the lost tooth

the dog's bark rounding out whatever the moon is missing

to the next from one day to the next day from the one day next to from

overgrown farmer's field in the middle of a depression the ox-eye daisies

city skyline the half moon a safe distance away from the construction crane

like being born again the rescue of miners trapped in the earth's womb

when opportunity knocks there's a door that won't open with a key we can't find

views from the doctor's office the 'v' of the geese not making any sound

10/10/10 the brilliant colors of maples repeating themselves

just passing by a small handprint on the sculpture of a leaf

near 90 in October the trees have already shed their green clothing

reduced for clearance all across america the plundering ways of christopher columbus

In the US, Columbus Day is observed on the 2nd Monday of October.

"united we fall" coal companies allowed to decapitate the oldest mountains on earth

november elections if I close my eyes and pick someone will the results be any different

just another one of life's obstacles the creek adds plastic bags to the downed sycamore

refusing a magic marker the young girl says the pumpkin already has a face

little church on the prairie attended by a faithful group of asters

in a sudden spurt of inspiration the grasshopper stays ahead of my dust

Poetry Quote from 2008

"I don't think it's an accident that poetry and poverty have similar spellings."


Cindy Tebo

along grant's trail a few doves on the power lines while the peacocks are silent

expulsion of roma the french government upset over the semantics of ethnic cleansing

the stage set for polar bears in the dimming of the northern lights

cold front the jet stream dividing the country in half

with berries held tight as a fist the sudden redness of dogwood leaves

late september the pond slows down to a heron's watch

bend in the missouri river how many pollutants can one body of water be expected to carry

Trax: Save the Confluence

proposed casino at the confluence we can't afford to cash in our wetlands for poker chips

carnahan vs blunt the fall equinox pays no attention to the rising temperatures

wrapped in its spacesuit an albino woolly worm in the moonlight

http://www.allaboutworms.com/white-woolly-worm-weather-predictions-and-other-insect-tales

more damage than gray mice the footsteps of rain that run through the house

the onset of fall crossing the pond in a boatful of leaves

Trax: Congo, Commentary (Article links had to be removed)

how we stay connected only adding to the rape of the congo






Joseph Conrad quotes:

"Being a woman is a terribly difficult trade since it consists principally of dealings with men."


"The belief in a supernatural source of evil is not necessary; men alone are quite capable of every wickedness."


"The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much."


"The way of even the most jusitifiable revolution is prepared by personal impulses disguised into creeds."


And an excerpt from the article: Congo's Tin Soldiers by Jonathan Miller:


"One hundred years ago, the novelist Joseph Conrad described the colonial plunder of Congo as 'the vilest scramble for loot that ever disfigured the human conscience.'"

Trax: The Pope, The Mr. Magoo Show w/links

oblivious to the uproar that surrounds him the pope as calm as mr. magoo

gravesite mix-ups so this is how we honor our fallen soldiers


*As many as 6,000 graves may be mismarked at the Arlington National Cemetery. 

Trax Extra:

thousands of fish killed on a mississippi that even mark twain wouldn't recognize

mid-september blues how many more soldiers with a tortured conscience will commit suicide


In memory of Spc. Alyssa R. Peterson February 29, 1976 – September 15, 2003

no refills for me a mineral taste to the water a wedge of lemon can't hide

birthday party for once the guest of honor is on time

news we rarely hear about the 52 journalists killed in the line of duty

around the last edges of summer the flight path of a moth lost in a yellowed cornfield

flat tire I feel as drained as the clouds at the end of a rainy afternoon

tea ceremony I am reminded of the steps during a catholic mass

unrelenting rain a guatemalan family huddled in the doorway of a house where the roof has collapsed

99 lashes Ms. Ashtiani's new sentence unveiling the curtain of injustice against women

nothing but blue skies for the labor day parade another 24 hours of being unemployed

guided by the bamboo there is only one way here and one way back

always in season the scent of pines toward evening

oil rig fire* the gulf of mexico on course to become the next dead sea

*originally I had explosion but the media has since downgraded this to fire.  There's been so many conflicting reports about this incident I'm not sure what to believe.  Maybe keeping us confused is a good way to divert attention from the oil sheen spotted earlier which has mysteriously disappeared.

uncertain times the steam from mt. sinabung rising like a question mark

as though they worked for our government this morning covered by clouds

the heart of the afternoon sun in the garden tomatoes

maybe there is no cure the glint of beer cans in the prairie rehab*

*refers to a prairie restoration site along I-270.

today's version of a salem witch hunt the slaughter of wolves by helicopter

the shawl fold I make another penguin that can't fly away from its troubles

halloween costumes in august as if the stuff in our food isn't scary enough

better than google the green o's of grapes

the late august hum of a hummer around the trumpet vine

evening phone call a tension headache stronger than my patience

as though they once held a newspaper the bananas turning black

a sunny-side down economy with over a billion eggs recalled

clearing out last night's storm the morning buzz of chainsaws

going home the squirrel taking up half of a one-lane bridge

another rise in the unemployment rate giving US more time to answer polls about President Obama

retiring early the frayed blanket seems to know what kind of day it's been

a pronunciation of "el reloj" without much time to emphasize the 'h' in hurry

as though I needed a second opinion the moon shedding some light on my insomnia

Quote

Love is being stupid together.



~ Paul Valery (1871-1945)

stored somewhere in the tupperware of my gray matter neuroplasticity

Harvard Business Review

in the hell's kitchen of mother nature it's the heat and the humidity

image of the perseid meteors the photography tips don't say anything about the clouds

outdoor concert each cell phone has its own ringtone

one foot on the shovel last year's dirt mixes with this year's

Quote

"It's easy to lose something in a world where anything is possible."

~Cindy Tebo

like animated chess players the night moves of crickets

Quote

"Every morning between 9 and 12,  I go to my room and sit before a piece of paper. Many times, I just sit for three hours with no ideas coming to me. But I know one thing. If an idea does come between 9 and 12, I am there ready for it."


~ Flannery O'Connor

spending my tax-free weekend with a book from the library

barely dawn and I've already misquoted myself

"Of course the government and the newspapers lie. But in a democracy, they're not the same lies."

~Steve Jackson



"Love is like war: easy to begin but very hard to stop."

~ Henry Louis Mencken (1880-1956)

the summer heat returns with the US vs Wikileaks

worth more than gold or silver the sight of a gray wolf roaming the rockies

bp exit strategy a little mud and cement and we're outta here

unregulated airspace almost anything that flies drawn to the bee balm

space quakes something else my homeowner's insurance won't cover

some trick of morning light lets the aging birdhouse change back into a tree

beginning of august the wall calendar looking like someone zapped it in the microwave

hot afternoon the leaves of the hydrangea drop more than the stock market

gray skies a flop around in old shoes gives me more room to consider my options

morning syllabus the dew in the grass enough to wake the crows

skull bone creek maybe the rocks will remember where the water once flowed

july heat I wonder if the turtle can hear the pond shrink

lumps of clay giving a voice to my misshapen idea 

100 candles as though he were still here we wish dad a happy birthday

I don't want to imagine a world without the wavy lines of brown pelicans

the sunflowers looking as tired as I am of this summer heat

sunrise a groundhog speeding across the road to some place cooler

trying to hold too many things together I'm hit by the sting of a broken rubberband

no photos allowed a woman sketching the cast of the pope's hand

lost in cyberspace the blogger stats let me know I've had 0 views today

a hit-or-miss morning through the railroad tunnel of rain clouds

in the dry bed of a creek even the rocks look thirsty

"the oil blob" roaming the gulf like the grim reaper

a portrait of my shoes holding up better than I am

address book entry an entire page dedicated to how many times she has moved

a july pattern the recycled heat drifting in from the gulf

moving up a notch in the charts this week the crooning of cicadas

solar eclipse a lot farther south than any of my windows

reruns on tv sometimes the clink of the ice machine is our only conversation

a cool front never staying long enough to carry us through july

tired of seeing the bloodshot numbers of a digital clock going through the change

just like everyone else the fly takes off when it's time to do the dishes

the city's noise ordinance tonight's heavy rain clearly in violation

the new iron curtain dimming the coverage of the bp oil spill

finding some peace from the fireworks a deer on the golf course

cutifornication the governor getting paid top dollar to screw the workers' wages

homeland security the green globes of a walnut tree preparing for fall

Quote

If I had to choose, I would rather have birds than airplanes.

~Charles Lindbergh



"Is Civilization Progress?" in Reader's Digest (July 1964)

concert about to start after a goldfinch's drink from the fountain

stacks of emails sorting through june may take me all of july

filling in for other birds that have gone silent the towhee's here I am here I'm not

some of our weedy efforts rewarded with butterflies

mental fitness I exercise my right to turn off the news

in the latest round of oil crimes the burning of live sea turtles

a flavor no one wants bp's tar gum spitting itself out on florida's beaches

ruling the airwaves honeysuckle with a slight edge over obama in the polls

heat warning all that's left is the grit of aging blackberries  

quote

Years are something you count, moments are something you remember.


~Cindy Tebo

in the pink haze of a road cut mimosa trees

summer solstice every breath sends out plumes of heat

fuelish me my limited resources like the earth I tread on

some out-of-the-loop trumpet vines drawing hummers

inside a steam kettle of humidity the tea colored patches of withering grass

too hot to rape for minerals the planet venus safe for now

we are not amUSed bp ceo's trying to recover from an outbreak of foot-in-mouth disease

sperm whales in the fight against global warming without having to fight each other

day 55 of the oil spill the president rolls up his sleeves

Or is it day 56?

who knows what the clouds carry when oil ranks higher than the water we drink

claims that it's harmless as dish soap what dioxin was to times beach corexit is to the gulf


Maybe I need to take a closer look at the dish soap I'm using.

making the hill seem taller than it is the remaining branches of an american chestnut

on a lot next to the bp station the red white and blue of a fireworks stand

in a thriving patch of sun the daisies no one planted or cared for

with all the time in the world the drifting clocks of cottonwood seeds

"A government for the people is far rarer than a government at the expense of the people." ~ Cindy Tebo

"A government for the people is far rarer than a government at the expense of the people." ~ Cindy Tebo 

blooms of green, pink and blue the hydrangeas decidedly undecided

this evening's humidity no match for the blockheaded politics of israel's blockade

hit by a hurricane hit by the oil a shrimp boat's lean into darkening waters

oil containment booms a weak bandaid that cannot heal the wounded

a cloudless hello not following any blog but sunrise

an orange sky reminding me of the chalk from st. joseph's flavored aspirin

no coupons needed a good deal spent on daylilies

memorial day the smell of fresh grass cuttings around mom and dad's grave

held with a tweezers the tick still tries to attach itself to something

flowering with headlines this morning's mumblings from a bumble bee

a blue sky of red shouldered hawks spilling keers into their cheery-o's

relief from yesterday's heat fringed by woods and bluebird sightings

at some point in the conversation we return to last night's hazy moon

oil spill saga a top kill cure or just another bp shortcut

ready for a new chapter the school papers recycled

seconds after the first mosquito bite other places its never been start to itch

cooling the patio the heart-shaped fans of catalpa leaves

so much for the gardening two rabbits chase each other into the next field

all the things I should have done outnumbered by raindrops

faster than I can send a text message the squirrel twitching its tail

named for ancestors I never met the meandering flow of tebo creek

the latest tracks of mud bring out the 'whatever' shrugs of indifference

an umbrella no help for a damp cough taking in more rain

on the verge of saying something the nervous dart of a hummingbird

infrared camera the specks of dust leaving trails like comets

with their stubborn preference for barren clay a new generation of ants

hammered by rain the frog barely has a chance to finish its call

warm front if only it would arrive quietly and with good intent

sundown the pond shivers with the crow's departure

mother's day the roses from the last party left on our table

lost then found shades of may in the cedar grove

finals' week I'll be glad when it's finally over

a fair weather vane the kingbird's song at sunrise

party hat the moon wearing a cloud this cinco de mayo

lifting my spirits young tomato plants in the garden

one more sleepless night tossing and turning into morning

a future with less of everything except the gallons of oil spilling into the gulf

goodbye from april the flashing neon of another storm

barn ivy putting green back into old wood

movers and shakers the earth juggling itself every day

in the finger paintings of irises the faces of children

april standard time a flood watch replaces the tornado watch

after a rainy yesterday the good morning tea with a hint of cinnamon

pink azaleas in a thunder of blooms that outlast the storm

gray cloud reruns at least there are no commercials about incontinence

turning 40 today an american elm won't let go of its birthday balloon

"welcome to illinois" half way across the bridge and we can't turn around

scenic overlook before I'm over the 150 steps I climbed to get here

a cool spell slowing down the need to get out of bed

hidden in the bur oak a nest of tomorrow's songsters

undeterred by mowed grass the optimism of dandelions 

"I could tell you my adventures—beginning from this morning," said Alice a little timidly: "but it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then."




~Lewis Carroll


news of volcanic eruptions my stay-at-home travel plans unchanged

every day is earth day the skink sunning itself on the woodpile

pressed for time the wind racing through the flags of iris