Wind is Entropy

I wrote a haiku:

Wind is entropy
But really, it is static
Change is illusion.

It got published on twihaiku.com, but I don't think that's really a big feat.
Anyway, now I'm reminded why I hate haikus and that's because I don't only have three lines worth of thought on wind or static or change or anything.
I want to talk about how much I adore the wind, in all it's chaos and I don't want to be restricted to seventeen stupid syllables.

I love it when hot sand and gravel blow into my pores, and I walk around like I've risen from the dead.
I love it when gusts of air blow plastic bags into trees and they tangle around sapling limbs like flags of surrender.
I love it how nothing stays the same in wind, how trees swing low, how ponds evaporate, how houses topple over.

In wind, trash goes everywhere, leaves and sticks and stupid worthless things become important.
In wind, those tufts of dead grass I walk by every boring day, they come alive.
In wind, everything struggles to bend back in place, everything becomes a challenge, everything is victory.

I'm reminded how when I was young, I would stand in the middle of our street and raise my arms and welcome the stinging, chaotic dust storms, the first before each monsoon. I'd stand until everything around me was red-brown and smelled like rain and then the storms would come.

Fuck haikus.

Brownie Thoughts

Obama will go crazy. The job is so incredibly powerful and stressful that it will turn him into a madman. I've noticed that every single ex-president of this century looks broken, defeated and his soul is tattered. Look at Nixon, H.W, Clinton and most recently, W.

Without even time to recollect what insane activity he did last night, Our Hero examines the cuts and bruises that mysteriously appeared on his hands and breathes in deeply, ready for another swim.

Tiny door

Do you think that when Mary Jane is legal, they will manufacture pre-packaged, one hit, disposable pipes or just cigarettes?

My hair is a poem, like the rings of a tree, tells the age, the disasters and the triumphs of my life.