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PowerBook Haiku by Robert L. Seltman

As a teacher of English in Japan and a father of two, my day is riddled with both intensely active moments and all too brief breaks of fragile calm. It is in the eye of my daily cyclone that I have discovered a new wonderful use for the PowerBook.

Following the suggestion of a friend, I keep an alias titled ‘Haiku’ on my desktop. This opens up to an ongoing list of my own short poetic verses, of no particular rhyme or reason, that brings instantaneous escape from the humdrum of an all too busy life.

Each day, responding to moods, often anger, or inspiration, like sexual titillation but sometimes of a higher nature, I write playful one liners. . . Some juicy ventilation of my cardinal desires, or classy little Haiku-like tidbits, that might please an English teacher. Hear him? Basho barfing. Art no, but fun yes.

Once a week I print out these little master pieces and share them with friends, who themselves have taken to writing their own. As they take but a minute to read, and just as quickly to erase or rewrite, there is none of the usual heaviness associated with sharing one's 'writings.'

These little poems have been incorporated into my lesson plans, but primarily I dig the therapy. How better to convert a really bad moment in the classroom into a smile, that may flash again later on the face of a reader friend. Although one can still write Haiku with a pen or brush, I find the clarity (and spell-check) of my laptop the ideal medium. Take an extension cord or watch the charge in your batteries, and this process can follow you into the toilet or up to your favorite mountain shrine. Friends here or elsewhere might enjoy seeing what you write, I know I would.

Poems by Robert L. Seltman

Haiku Stringer for the Hangman

Tormenting chatter
bladders down my ears
taped role play
looped on replay

Sitting heavy acid tummy
hurry lunch
Ham fed baloney mashed in place.

Nobody asked yet you listen allowing
fragrant freedom through a hole
calling my body

Soothing soft cream
make my day

Singing sparrow to no ear.
Choke air cloister,
a class where
my scratch throat
shits songs of sin
before swine.

Simple construction
or architectural blunder
stupidity rains on my Kyoto

Wailing assassins and greed
weak minds murdering a sacred city.
The Prince and new bride
wade through
oblivious to their own death.
Gene Pool

Named for a man
who held my father's
Holding me now
a life in his image.

Dad's Dad died
His beloved brother
killed young
This son gone his own way…
more betrayal?

from the past
without burying the living?

What we say to our children,
when we try to make
them like ourselves.
Eat my Shit.

Family coming,
rainy reason blue.

Deserts of Silenc

How sacred and
soft peaceful
suzuki weeds
waving in the wind

Powder blues, pink, and green
softly sets my mountain.
Bright red, yellow, and party blue
flowers sit on our sill
a generous gardener's gift.
Color a paint by number bible.


Fearing death
I number the pages.

Be air
Express farts
Fling clouds of fragrance everywhere.

Sweet Samson Savitri

cleaning the inscriptions for translation
a cryptic soul opened to the sun
Wisdom given a chance to breath.

Untied from knots
gnarly and rotten
her light holy hands
Holy Faster

Living on air.
Seasoned in my salty heaven
with a peppery pinch of hunger's Hell

Soft scented rain
caressing students
as they run for cover.
Maternal patience
wetting all with
father's love.
Was Wednesday

Creeping upon a birthday
Two soft creams for lunch
a simple solution for sadness

In my majestic
philosopher's book shop
I am free momentarily
suspended on my delicious dialogue
of boyhood didactic dreams
Nishitani on Nihilism
Nietsche mirror Max Stirner
warm memories
masculine mind games
dripping through the old percolator

Anarcho-Marxist masturbating
on a youthful hard-on,
where's my dogma when I need it?

Pssssst at students
all for no good reason.
Anger so old she has no mother.
Disgusted witness
to outgoing trivia.
How to end my rein of terror?

Sannyas suns radiating
cooling my hot
stretching my tight
hailing my taxi out of here

Diet Lust

Eating air
I touch the hunger
Tasty, free, and all for me!

Deeply I descend
A chest warm and soft
Mom's milk cradled on my lips.

Ladders of nymphs
with pointy tits
warm parting thighs

Sucked by sentiments
a monstrous tongue lashing
long lingering strikes
against the throne of my scrotum.

The King lies dying
God speed the Queen
Eating to feed
a desperate
grumbling deep

My hallow caverns
walls of haunted earth
a breath of ancient air

Meddling with the cord
between mind and autopilot
Free fall

Death defying stunts
aerodynamic dialectics
Delicious time spent
alone with your voice
Michael Barnett
a superstar

Earning his living
Fuck’n lucky


Disciple's Dare

Do what you do. . . but do not say
what must I do …and
thy will be done

her quaking flower
Creation or death?
Saturday work

Next Year
these classes will not exist
Praise the Lord


On the step of the mountain shrine
I viewed my lustrous cock
seamen dripping proud

If man were woman
there'd be a lot less of us.

This vanquishing angel
expressing contempt
My tongue stinging
sensitive skin

Is anger good?
I feel evil
down deep in my belly

Giving up
feeling down
stumbling sideways
frustrated middle age fool
my sickening reflection.

I was happy
meditating by that pond
but here
I see the sinister

Breath in…free
Breath out…dead
head talking.

what stupidity.
too late.

Where is the god
in this old fart
reflecting in my rearview?
Thirsty Thursday

Wedded to Osho
Subhan suffers securely

Wedded to Reiko
insecurely sufficing

I and Osho
unconsummated flirtation

James Deep end extending
frail young roots

A box home
I love
but her door
bumps my head

left unattended
I fantasize a new waiter
Please Serve Me

I was making progress
then I remembered

I catch myself smiling
I like teaching
it all

Tough lesson
for poor students
I tell my rainy season joke
soft smiles crack over hard desks
more miracle monkeys

Dollar saved
in a dull day spent
worrying about
my fictitious future

Mom sleeping in eternity
waking only to remind me
of things I can't forget.

Pretty preschool teacher
holding my daughter
a kiss good-bye

A message from my pants
"Position for attack"

neglected husband
hazardous waste
sign flashing
in her face

In all the cream coated fantasies
you take the cake

Just a Tuesday

my son's
wide grin
Hot humorless air
Wafting from the head
inhale in
cool again

Illuminating my anger
in all-woman classes
my seamen
up through my ears

My dick
a door stop

I respect you enough

to wanna waddle
your mid-drift.
a poem for you
what you said.
Injured strangers in my wake.

I lift
your skirt
to catch my reflection.

hands were as free as eyes
I wouldn't need glasses.
White skin
asking my touch
Brown eyes
Elbowing my way
I reach the gates of hell.

Taking a cruise
on one liners

hit single
or fly ball
Digging deep
into my trousers
I find what I am looking for.

soft denim clad globes
bubbling over the back
of that chair.
Fabric webbed over
shoulder wings
I yearn to grab her
from behind

hues of brown
cascading down translucent cotton.
Wild shag cut above bony shoulders
long fingers clad
in amber skin.

How refreshing!
As pleasant up front
as her behind.

Strong firm fingers
a button
plain and simple
too diversified a pronoun
for me

sound of one

Too many faces
black eyes

so soft
even I melt.

After five weeks
he comes
falling sound asleep
in class.

If food made answers
I'd be informative
If it made art
I'd be beautiful
handicapped happiness

Bottomless desires
all motion tainted
uneventful exertion
Mirroring surfaces
bored witless
inches thick

end of a week

students sucking air
shoulders aching
time dragging

Being clever drains
I seek vacations in mindless bliss
yet…find . . .this and this and

from aluminum cans
Platters of deep-fried
Is there any wonder?

sure you see
and sweet
damn responsibility
Boring friends with my sadness,
I try and hide.
Yet in my aloneness
a greater fear, boredom in my soul.
You say
"Where ever there is life
Enlightenment is underneath."

Show me

sometime silent
noisy nonsense
or cold ignoring

Days at work

heart murmur
a lily bent by

Being kind
if it is language
I fail miserably.
A break
brief but full pause
away from you,
those, and their

Holy warrior

armed to the teeth
freaking out
Japanese students
the threat of a test
Pavlovian pranksters paradise

New Waves

A wave of tiredness
bumps my side
Yet I dare not fall

Quintessential flesh and bone
decorates stimulates,
creating erection upon erection,
piled in storage for the duration.

All white natural fibers
soft clean skin
cool water and wild rice

Could tonight I begin?
everything within my power
to cleanliness

centered in the chest
warm rising tight
tensing head
feet and hands sweat
bowels hot, stomach acidic
vision blurred, sounds disturbing.

Coming out of Anger
mental anguish
breathing shallow
body temperature in flux
the smell of regret.
Price of admission?

Time oriented

Fear of being left behind
Space restricted
Fear of being left out
Spiritual quest
Fear of fear itself

Her Sign of Trust

Sharing gesture and trust
the tattoo on her tit
before the open wide eyes
of a hungry child.

White water pouring down over
salty tombs of years
encrusted in these crystal tears.
Glistening madness melts,
molten magic from fountain eyes
a torrent of liquid love
erupting red.

I sit poised on a poem
stunned silent
the scent of your eyes
still circling

Deep cold water
washing me toward the fall
I swim
feeling my control.

What is missing in man
Can be gathered from woman
when currents are clear.

Dipping deep into her lake
I feel hidden hands
holding me

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