Any given day may bring me a measure of joy in my garden or running. I also know the uneasiness too of not being able to decide which is more likely to cause human extinction: inability to live in peace with other beings or disregard for the hard work of caretaking for and restoring ecological balances. I know they don't need to be weighed against each other, but these ideas are a burden I carry in a two-fold backpack. I seldom write humorous poetry except the poem I wrote about being so serious. Website: triciaknoll.com
Just My Luck to Never Know
What boon it is that English
rhymes bone with stone?
Honesty in womb to tomb.
The finality of burn and urn.
How to give thanks for the morph of blind
— be blind, hide in blinds, peek-a-boo blue blinds.
Why do the origins of star and stare
have little to do with each other?
Why did an online haiku generator
call me a leftover geometry
in a timeframe of glass?
What conceals the most surprise
oracle dice or jasmine rice?
turn of the wheel or serpent’s meal?
That parade of store-display masquerades,
that robot mannequin eyeballing
cakes on conveyor belts.
The man whose ashes flew past Pluto,
pull of destiny or unsung infinity?
Really, what madness made me?
©2016 Tricia Knoll