USA

  • astray
    the pond
    I lied to

     

    magpie chapter
    you can tell whose ‘I’
    is ripped

     

    let it be
    if a mollusk’s pulse
    corresponds to a fugue

     

    the word “seed”
    lodged between
    my incisors

     

  •        r  c

        e       o

      v            m

    o                  e

           

           my

            desire

            r

            o

            w

            n

            i

            n

            g

  • Blandness. Monotony. Boredom. Blue emptiness. Numbness. Lassitude.

    zero in three lines
    0
    o

     

  • small talk
    the creek scampers
    beyond its banks

    Modern Haiku Volume 48:1 (2018)

  • broken mirror-
    my reflection
    in all the pieces

     


  • milking honeysuckle downpour

     

  • green barley
    a slack tide
    of turfan silk

    Akitsu, Spring 2018

  • pulling corn silk
    under starlight
    a single firefly

     

    first blossoms
    float upon clouds
    old pond

  • defensive dating
    unspooling avatars again
    and again

     

  • after the snap
    family removed his arms
    but not the ptsd

    Failed Haiku September 2018

  • he's so controlling
    he wants to pick out
    her next husband

     

    his temporary
    blackout - her years
    of terror flashbacks

  •                          /
    S H A T T E R                   D!
               -               I                  / -
                       \                     I
                   I                 I - I   -/

  • black ice
    I drive over
    the moon


    vape smoke escapes
    her pale white face


    early morning
    the prisoner’s breath lingers
    above barbed-wire


    tire chains left behind
    on the narrow highway


    Christmas shopping
    she tries on
    another necklace


    gold light shimmers
    across the water


    breaking news
    in the old t.v.
    drifting clouds

    trying to sleep
    in the hospital lobby


    smell of coffee
    I take another bite
    of a salad


    strangers walking briskly
    through the garden


    receding
    deep into the night
    sound of sirens


    seagulls calling
    above dim streetlamps

    dementia . . .
    waves washing away
    footprints in the sand


    migratory patterns
    in the wings of a butterfly


    check-mate 
    my neighbor gives me
    another cookie


    new cracks form
    in the marble steps


    heavy rain
    sunlight pierces through
    broken thoughts


    solving the last word
    of a crossword puzzle


    early morning . . .
    I light another journal
    on fire


    headlines trickle down
    a vacant driveway

     

  • perfect storm...
    sounds of relief
    the day after 

    NHK Haiku Masters website, and presented on their TV. November 2017

  •      flute notes
    fluttering
            petals

    2018 Harold G. Henderson Haiku Awards - second place

  • moonless night –
    my reclusive neighbor
    points out Jupiter

    Modern Haiku – 41.3 autumn 2010
    Republished in: evolution: The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2010 (Red Moon Press, 2011)


  • bare branches

    a raven weighing
    moonlight
     
  •  

    blackbird lilac forgive my confusion

     

    half-moon half-no-moon raspberry blossoms

     

    noon whistle          this is not my life

  • my winter family
    stink bugs
    in the rafters


    this snow or the last?
    my father forgets
    my name


    my hair half white
    not even thick enough
    for a louse


    why don’t pigeons
    perch in trees? 
    bitter rain

  • cooking dinner
    daughter turning
    into her mother

     

    sleeping bag
    on the park bench
    a prayer