The Bishop and the Butterfly: Murder, Politics, and the End of the Jazz Age

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A Decently December Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

And so it begins;
the cold month that ends each year.
Be mild, December.

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Another Thankful Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Through an iron fence,
I watch autumn leaves fall on
empty park benches.

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A New Beginning on a Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

On the eleventh
Month, day and hour - at long last,
the guns fell silent.

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A Nearly Saturday Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

If you need a laugh,
ask a child what adults say
when they're whispering.

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A Ghastly, Ghostly, Very Scary Friday Afternoon at The Haikulodeon

 

 

 

Here's this week's headless heap of horrifying haikus:

 

 

 

Frankenstein's Monster
pursued by an angry mob
"Alive, Alive, NO!"

 

 

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An Autumnal Frost on a Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

 


 

 

 

 

Here's this week's heap of haikus:

 


 

 

 

 

An Autumnal frost,
withered pumpkins on the vine,
squirrels breathing steam.

 

 

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Singin' the Blues on a Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

Slouched in a corner,
of a dingy juke joint, a
young man learns the blues.

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A Wind-Swept Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

 

Here's this week's heap of haikus:

 

He buried his fear
in the pleats of mother's skirt.
( ... wiped his nose there too.)

 

 


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 Fear is a fabric
that folds under stress, and when
in hot water, shrinks.

 

 

 

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Finally, a Finely Fried Friday Afternoon at the Haikulodeon

In that 'long ago',
all of us are ever young ...
never more alive.

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