Handy haiku

Many women go past, I gape.

Many words go past, I gape.

Many worlds go past, I gape.

Gaping, I do well.

postscript: thanks to a friend, in conversation with whom, this thing was born. it is obviously not to be compared with the masters, but it is pithy, it has context and I like it. 

A tragedy

The infinite, 

multiplying possibilities of childhood, 

being chased forever,

by the whittling years,

are dead men 

now.

Their ghosts however

return, without fail

to haunt the undeniable

now.