MPY+ZINE

#haiku
#mpy
micropoetry
by kevin m rowe

INTRODUCTION
I have always been interested in the small, the
minuscule and micro. When I was a child,
small spaces became incredibly large
universes to explore. Under the blanket, the
table or in the storage space beneath the
stairs, adventure always awaited. These tiny
spaces became extraordinarily meaningful. I
can now see small spaces between words
that expand into short but powerful sentences.
To say something meaningful and to express
the extraordinarily complex with just few
words is an art. I dedicate this small book to
those who say very little but get so very much
across.

I am a recent convert to Twitter. That is right,
this crotchety young but old neo-neo-luddite
has found meaning in technology once again.
While I have always loved micropoetry and
aphorisms, I hadn't, until recently, found a
good venue or means for sharing my work.
The following poems, some of which appear
online, are all within Twitter's 140 character
constraint. A beautiful and challenging
constraint for a poet to work under. The
following work consists of several haiku
compositions and micropoems.

#haiku

ONE
I do not retreat · I will keep
my position · bookmarked
on this page

TWO
sin in the heavens · where
winter blizzards blind eyes ·
whose novel gaze burns

THREE
poetry is dead · this is a
requirement · of the
postmodern

FOUR
entropic support · of the
headless and surreal · into
snow or ash

FIVE
shaking hands that tell ·
weathered wrinkled
yellowing · hands that have
worked hard

SIX
I dream nostalgic · unlikely
as it might sound · time
travel exists

SEVEN
foolish are the vain · whose
vanity taints beauty · a
Gray portrait sky

EIGHT
fables of a wish · who
crawled from a burning well
· penniless but brave

NINE
a catastrophe · a
nightmarish debacle · art
has died my friends

TEN
orchestral orcas · trumpet
salt into the air · lost within
the mist

ELEVEN
the burning children · half
naked in the night's sea ·
mournful are the priests

TWELVE
the traffic light winks ·
seducing pedestrians · her
premature cue

THIRTEEN
in its profound grace ·the
leaf danced before the
ground · in the face of
death

FOURTEEN
eternal return · in sun’s
glow and scattered leaves ·
the smell of decay

FIFTEEN
an ontology · in five simple
syllables · I am I exist

SIXTEEN
Angelus Novus · with his
back to the future · ugly is
our past

SEVENTEEN
The world is a ghost · it is
not I who will die · but the
world that fades

EIGHTEEN
written in a book ·
transcribed on a computer ·
is this too much work?

#mpy

ONE
I of the flower · to bloom
pink popcorn in snow · or
spring rains white pedals
confettied pretty on the
summerless black grey
asphalt

TWO
I listen to the rustle and
sough betwixt the falling
leaves as the wind sings
and the pale rain dances
percussively at my window

THREE
I fear erroneously prophetic
prodigal economists and
their prolific ineptitude who
squander our livelihood
away without shame

FOUR
no sounder a sounder with
those sniffling snorting
snouts detecting delectable
and terrific truffles for you
and I to feast upon

FIVE
a vanilla sky hosting an
insipid cloud leaking
uninspiringly upon a bluegrey
city as autumn loses
ground to a wet winter

SIX
chins buried in necks or
necks hiding chins on a
scarfless autumn day · red
cheeks and orange leaves ·
and the yellow that we walk
on

SEVEN
my eyes fall between the
words and betwixt the lines
downward on an endless
page as if they were lost
plinko chips

EIGHT
an autumn sun that spirals
like seashells on the beach
· a beautiful immaculate
sequence · lazy sun · snail
of the sky

NINE
about a girl whose palm
might have been empty if
not for the flesh of my face
which is now bruised like a
shadow

TEN
beneath her feet · the same
ground upon which she
kicked some sense into you

ELEVEN
tired and trembling · fingers
like twigs in the wind ·
palms that are wishing
wells · he whistles while he
begs with a smile and a
wink

TWELVE
ash falls with the
snowflakes · the Christmas
tree ablaze · we dance
rabid in the slush · mum’s
drunk on Baileys

THIRTEEN
a small book for writing in ·
the page is a mirror · if one
reads enough they may go
blind · no? ask Borges

FOURTEEN
molecular and macular · a
tiny speck · a pupil lost in
an ocean of tears · an I
adrift on an eternal retina ·
know we are small

Photo: Michael Louw
Kevin M. Rowe is a poet, writer, musician
and educator. He has written several
Chapbooks and is currently completing his
debut full-length collection of essays and his
first novel. He currently lives and works in
Vancouver, BC as a teacher and musician.