Sea Shells

March 2026

Longboat Key, Sarasota

Mostly six syllable haiku.

A morning walk along the beach on Longboat Key in Sarasota, Florida, a gentle breeze, what it means to be all alone in a city 56,000 people.

Through the portal,

On the Beach

— Nevil Shute

Alice’s Looking Glass

“If I had a world

of my own,

everything

would be nonsense.

Nothing would be

what it is,

because everything

would be what it isn’t.

And contrary wise,

what is,

it wouldn’t be.

And what it wouldn’t be,

it would.

You see?”

Pretty shells.

The shore.

For free

.

If the ocean and the shore had a political theory, would it be Dao Dejing?

More political theory:

Gather, collect, conform.

We are prisoners, confined to the structures we create. Michel Foucault

Broken shelves,

Broken hearts,

Broken dreams.

.

What is a rebel, but a man who says no-Albert Camu. We shall return to this thought

All politics is local, says tip O’Neill. Federalism takes into account, the large in the small, the rural in the urban. This helps to avoid the tyranny of the majority.

The waves,

The foam,

Repeat.

.

In terms of texture, clam shells come in three varieties: spiky, ribbed, and smooth The color is very from white to black my favorite is the silvery iridescent shell that looks like pearl. Because these are so fragile, they are all almost always broken. Does part of their beauty lie in the fact that they uncommon? 

The birds,

Flapping,

Their wings

.

Seagulls,

Sandpiper,

And fools

.

How to describe a sand pepper:

Long beaks,

Long legs,

Small heads

.

Blue ocean,

so vast,

No wind

.

 me,

On the beach,

Alone 

Back through the portal.

“What is a rebel? A man who says no.” Camus

Or a man on the beach with no shoes 

At the Gym

Late in December at the gym, jogging around the track, trying to remember that one I was young.

I have outlived Matsuo Basho now for quite a few years. Eating well, lifting weights, writing poetry is my secret to success.

One is lifting weights

Grunting, barely holding on

Sadly, getting older

.

Those who are younger

Daily are getting stronger

And looking better

.

The weight of the world

Grows and grows all the time

Troubling one’s mind

.

Like Sisyphus one keeps at it. Like Basho one wanders from time to time.

Somebody farted

Variations on a fart by a smart feller. things not said in polite company.

Somebody farted,

Was it wind or a whisper?

Friends soon departed

.

Somebody farted

Hearing a sigh feeling a breeze ,

The room held its breath

.

Somebody farted

A cloud of mystery lingered

As I departed

.

Matsuo Basho ate radishes both because they were plentiful and because he had stomach problems for most of his life. No doubt he passed gas in polite company, but it was never mentioned.

Partially puzzled

Matsuo Basho statue

From the fractured haiku collection.
On the anniversary of Matsuo Bashō’s death,
November 28, 2025

partially puzzled,
and warily wondering
what Bashō would think…

The last line could be changed to say, “Would Bashō approve…” But sadly, he’s not here to say.

RIP: Matsuo Bashō, master of the haiku, who died surrounded by friends, November 28, 1694 (age 50 years), Osaka, Japan