Haiku Conundrum

I can’t quit haiku
grab day’s poetry moments
before words escape

count on my fingers
seeking right rhythm and beat
5-7-5 fit

structure gives courage
step out like sax soloist
poetry improv

my haiku flow fast
like booze and smoke in jazz bars
quick composition

written in margins
pretty posts for Instagram
in notebooks, on scraps

private and public
--counting right now in Starbucks--
I can’t stop haiku

which begs this question:
how do I save every one?
scattered like fall leaves

deciduous words
I want them neat and tidy
contained in clean bins

what would Basho say?
—the first great haiku master—
he’d answer in verse:

leaves in a trash can 
once beautiful, now brittle
spread yours on the ground