jack galmitz | seven haiku

The word
is orange,
or sunset,
or murder,
it’s up to the mouth

The coroner showed
me the tag round my father’s toe:
my face faced the wall

In the courtyard
in the floodlights
a three-legged dog

I possess the map
to all the passageways
of hell in my head

Inside my head
you and you and you
redress a crowd

Disassembling
my parts I end up
all over the floor

I can feel the ghosts
they shape my posture
they speak with my voice

0 Replies to “jack galmitz | seven haiku”

  1. The word
    is orange,
    or sunset,
    or murder,
    it’s up to the mouth

    I’d like to publish this in Notes from the Gean (a quarterly of haiku, tanka, and related forms), out of Scotland. And any more you might have like it!

    Michael McClintock
    Tanka Editor
    Notes from the Gean

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