April 7, 2009

At the Metrodome Station

Crowds appear on the plaza, clustered lines:
Winter's sand blown dry across the bricks.

Posted by tgus at 5:20 AM

March 12, 2009

Satellite City

Waiting for the 24 in the morning dark,
The Castle glowing behind,
A big moon burning before.

The 24 pulls up, eclipses the moon,
Reflects the Castle,
Its diesled gravity pulls me in, and then it
Carries me on its non-elliptical orbit.

Posted by tgus at 2:03 PM

October 25, 2005

Joined at the ipod on the 24

Two boys share a seat
and a set of earbuds,
twin tones gone mono.

Posted by tgus at 11:58 PM

April 21, 2005


Fat drops hit
my ear and forehead
as the bus arrives,
they spill, they spread
on the dusty pavement,
they pool.

Earthworms will dry in the sun
on this sidewalk soon.

Sprlng raln scourlng
the gritty air,
the street sand and salt,
the oily detritus
of wlnter, pushlng it all
in gutter tributaries
to the Big Muddy.

Posted by tgus at 7:33 AM

April 10, 2005

A Free Market of Trash

(Lake and Hiawatha Shelter)

Cigarette butts
crayons sand
candy wrappers
pistacchlo shells
leaves newspaper scraps
pbj crust ln a baggle
straw corrugated cardboard
chewed gum bottle cap
torn bus transfers
used kleenex paper towel
the wealth of nations

Posted by tgus at 10:44 PM

April 5, 2005

Pothole Haiku

Under the gray bridge
Spring troll of I-Ninety-Four,
Wakes up, grabs my wheel

--Scott Hvizdos

(originally published, less than adequately, in the StarTribune, March 22, 2005).

Posted by tgus at 11:14 AM

March 24, 2005

Camouflage Man

Slouchlng in the train seat
like you're hiding in a duck bllnd,
camo'd hood pulled low over
your face, camo'd pants
over the shoe tops.

The not-so-invisible man.

Posted by tgus at 1:42 PM

March 23, 2005

The Between Space

From train to platform, or
from platform to train
is a quick step
over that thin gap between.

But just there in that space
lives the shift from place
to place.

Posted by tgus at 3:45 PM

March 18, 2005

Haiku #2

Winter Storm Warning.
Be careful what you wish for:
Stuck here, can't go south.

Posted by tgus at 10:11 AM

March 8, 2005

Three-Inch Nail

At the Franklin and Minnehaha Bus Stop

Tattoo man, your body pierced and modified
to the tune, I'd guess, of many months' rent,
skin stretched like sandwich wrap,
branded, dyed, punctured, reconfigured.

Dressed in leather and studs:

I've seen it all before, though not on you--
recognize you from across
Franklin, though I haven't encountered
precisely you before.

The type is so common, I muse, that
It fails to shock--
Such a pastiche of cliches that it fails
to express individualism just as much
as I do.

But then, as you walk up, smiling, bobbing,
saying "Quite the spring day,"
I see, in addition to the standard-issue
nose rings, a nail.

A good-sized nail, maybe 10-penny.
It had been a moustache when you
were across the street.

That got me.
That got me writing.

Posted by tgus at 8:36 AM

March 4, 2005

Still Life at Bus Stop

Three young toughs,
maybe 13 or 14,
stand and kick at the cold.

Big shoes unlaced,
big pants unhiked,
big coats unzipped.

Two dangle cigarettes from their mouths;
the other works a Tootsie-Pop
from side to side.

Posted by tgus at 9:20 PM

March 2, 2005


Hiawatha blues:
The train passing swiftly by
The red light remains

--Ali Gharavi

(Thanks to Ali, a master of the form; and to his colleague and poem-broker Scott, who has a future in literary promotion).

Posted by tgus at 4:10 PM

March 1, 2005

Found Haiku--Bike and Train

Bike Rack Place front wheel
in bottom bracket Hook rear
wheel in top bracket

Who knew that the Hiawatha Line's sign-writers were poets?

Posted by tgus at 8:21 AM