Last night in bed,
staring into the darkness,
seeing my life flash before me -
a barrage of color, sound, sensation
I hardly recognize today -
the squandered moments rushed back,
markers of each intersection
where my course was set
Then there were others with no signs,
just subtle warnings
of what lay ahead.

And I was the driver,
listening to the music
and tapping rhythm on your thigh,
cresting a hill on the expressway,
seeing the disabled car
half an instant too late.

How is it we so easily
dismiss the peculiarity of the moment,
as if any other
could have taken its place?

Perhaps it’s because
we want to believe,
(as you often said)
every moment,
each opportunity,
is self-orchestrated;
like the universe
is a willing mistress
waiting for our call.

But just before the break of day
as you lay with me,
resting peacefully,
silk hair on my arm,
soft breath on my neck,
I was someplace else,
wondering what I’d done
to have found myself
in a moment like that one.

A while back I was motivated to put together some of the haiku I’d written as a gift for a friend. I scribbled about seventy verses as legibly as I could in a pocket-sized Moleskine cahier. It was well-received, much to my delight. My friend told me I should write a book of haiku. I pointed at the one in her hands and said that I just had written a book of haiku. She said she meant a real book.

While I’m not sure there’s much demand for a book of my haiku (or anything else, for that matter), I have been flattered on occasion by similar exhortations to write a real book. On the other hand, I think it was Flannery O’Connor who, when asked if she thought the universities stifled writers, replied that they didn’t stifle enough of them. As she said, “There’s many a best seller that could have been prevented by a good teacher.” – a sentiment I’m sure she’d have about the blogging phenomenon as well, had she lived to see it.

Flannery O’Connor’s loathing aside, I stumbled across a reasonably cheap, effective way to get my little book of haiku printed. So that’s what I did, adding a bit of non-haiku poetry to the end of it. It’s mostly done for family and a few friends who’ve expressed an interest in it, but it’s there for anyone else who may be interested as well.

If you want a copy (printed or downloadable), click here to pick one up from LuLu.com.

Or, if you might be inclined to offer me your own review of the book (as flattering or brutally honest as you like), I’d be glad to send you the downloadable version of the book for free. Let me know if you’re interested.