Talking shit

A samurai in a latrine; outside, his three attendants hold their noses. Coloured woodcut by Hokusai, 1834. Credit: Wellcome Collection. Attribution 4.0 International (CC BY 4.0).

I stumbled across an item from the Poetry Foundation, “Haiku on Shit” by Masaoka Shiki, in my virtual wanderings and thought it a delightful departure from the daily shit monsoon, against which a parasol, a wetsuit, or a subterranean bunker are no defense.

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11 Responses to “Talking shit”

  1. khal spencer Says:

    Ohio GOP Senate primary, perhaps?

  2. Pat O’Brien Says:

    I would comment, but first I must get my shit together.

  3. SAO' Says:

    Looks like shit. Smells like shit. Feels like shit. And tastes like shit.

    Good thing I didn’t step in it.

  4. Opus the Poet Says:

    Happy Cinco de Mayo! Pop a Cervesa and pour a shot of Cuervo and celebrate the French getting handed their asses by a bunch of campesinos.

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      No shit. Remember the Battle of Puebla! Also, the words of John Steinbeck regarding Bohemia beer, via Old Jingleballicks in “Sweet Thursday”:

      “The Mexicans are a great and noble people. The Pyramid of the Sun and this beer — whole civilizations have produced less.”

  5. Chris Ivich Says:

    Backpacking has often driven me to poetry:
    Whilst erecting my tent
    A bear turd gives pause
    S’ok, not a haiku, but in the spirit.

  6. Shawn Says:

    I shat a few times in an outhouse that was claimed to have been the first place that Sputnik was seen. According to a misguided research scientist (no not you Khal), up at the Geophysical Institute in Fairbanks, he was appreciating his constitution when Sputnik alighted across the sky. Rumors have been started on less, but the outhouse does have an official commemorative plaque appreciating the sighting.

    Bohemia beer and Cinco de Mayo. I suppose that’s not something you’d want to bring up this evening in some Paris biker bar.

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