Quick – want to hear my haikus again?

I’m just so pleased with myself.  Because my haikus not only follow the 5-7-5 syllable format, they also make the requisite direct or indirect reference to the season.   Or did until last week, when icy winter turned to spring.

Winter of the bear.

What fun is there in bonds?  None.

Boy needs some action.

Priceline – ice ego.

Bezos could have a shot, though

No more big discounts.

Stock market deep freeze,

Taxes kept me from selling.

I'm an idiot.

The only other poem I ever wrote I wrote when I was 23 in what our President might describe as his – or in this case my – young and irresponsible days.  Seen through those very wide pupils, it seemed quite brilliant to me.  I even submitted it to the New Yorker – yes, the New Yorker -- which shows you just how wildly I was hallucinating.  It’s not a haiku, it’s simply this:

Every day

Is a happy day --

With an asterisk.*

*Its passing.

I even went so far as to explain to the New Yorker – yes, to the New Yorker – that my poem would be best read aloud, because that way the listener wouldn’t know whether “its” had an apostrophe or not – and the great thing about my poem was that it was valid either way.

(The New Yorker sent a very polite rejection.)

I still like this poem.  (Hey!  “The fog comes on little cat’s feet and having come, moves on?”  I mean, what’s so great about that?) 

It reminds me that when I start getting anxious about stuff I can’t change, like, say, a bear market, I’m wasting precious time.  And back I plunge into my e-mails.

Monday: More on Puts