These are Peter Hinchcliff’s ongoing haiku emissions: brief, confused weather reports from the inside of his brain. They appear when they feel like it, vanish without warning, and sometimes rewrite themselves while you’re not looking. Updates happen at absolutely random intervals—daily, never, or three times in one confused afteroon.

Love 

Left my heart on charge

plugged into a toaster moon

we kissed in low-res.

 

Fish

Meeting ran long, so

I forwarded all my thoughts

to a salmon cloud.

 

Bullseye

Contestants throw darts

at a spinning shopping list—

win one live concept.

 

Dog Poo

Sacred landmine glows,

prophet on the pavement says,

“Step here for new shoes.”

 

Bears

Office bear on break

fills in spreadsheets with claw marks,

honey in the ink.

 

Fudge cake

Quantum fudge cake slice—

I both did and did not

eat your birthday.

 

The Rover 200

Rover 200,

dashboard lit with ancient runes,

radio plays moss.

 

Headlice

Tiny landlords crawl,

charging rent per single hair,

eviction: shampoo.

 

Barcode Amnesia

Forgot my own name,  

barcode at the self-checkout  

calls me “mystery.” 

 

Spoiler-Light  

Streetlamp flickers once,  

claims it has seen everything,  

won’t share spoilers yet.  

 

Kettle Drama  

Kettle shrieks at me,  

tiny metal apocalypse,  

tea forgives us both.  

 

Wrong Passengers  

Bus stop at midnight,  

schedule eaten by the rain,  

only crows arrive.  

 

Trolley Pilgrim  

Loose shopping trolley  

rolling toward the horizon,  

seeking cheaper moons.  

 

Vowelless Protest  

Keyboard missing “E,”  

forced to speak in sideways words,  

vowels stage a strike.  

 

Almost Sky-Chair  

Cloud shaped like a chair,  

someone almost sits on it,  

decides not to fall.  

 

Cone on Duty  

Lonely traffic cone  

guarding a perfectly fine spot,  

self-employed sentinel.  

 

Secret Floor  

Elevator hums  

in a suspicious key,  

plotting extra floors.  

 

Anarchist Sock  

One rebellious sock  

refuses to know its pair,  

lives as performance.  

 

Fridge Confessional  

Fridge light therapist,  

sees me at my worst at night,  

offers only hums.  

 

Ticketless Bird  

Pigeon on the train,  

pretends it has a ticket,  

stares out, judging hills.  

 

Identity Check  

ATM screen blinks twice,  

asks if I’m “still the same user,”  

I press “unsure,” quit.  

 

Paused Universe  

Forgotten bookmark  

still holding a paused universe  

in a closed cupboard.  

 

Crooked Illumination  

Lamp with crooked shade,  

throws thoughts at a strange angle,  

shadows get ideas.  

 

Sky Collector  

Umbrella upside  

down in a sudden sunbeam,  

collecting blue sky.  

 

Bruised Prophet  

Banana bruised once,  

claims it saw the future fall,  

refuses to slip.  

 

Cosmic Audition  

Dust mote in sunbeam,  

auditioning for cosmos,  

gets the lead, briefly.  

 

Leftover Time-Travel  

Microwave beeps thrice,  

summoning ancient leftovers,  

time travel in sauce.  

 

Bench Exhale  

Park bench at dawn sighs,  

wood full of yesterday’s weight,  

empties into birds.