• Hanrahan, Mary

    midnight ballet
    a mule deer bounding
    through the meadow


    muddy thoughts
    the day clings
    to my boots


  • Hansel and Gretel

    come upon the witch’s house. It’s made of candy: gumdrops and peppermint sticks and chocolate chips. Hansel and Gretel are not exactly starving, having snacked on blackberries and almonds growing along the way. Besides, Gretel plans to be a dentist, and Hansel has a hankering for bacon and eggs at the moment.

    To their surprise, the bright colors of the house change before their eyes. Gone, the sparkle of sugar on the roof, replaced by the sizzle of bacon shingles. The door is no longer a chocolate bar, but an oblong of hash browns. Eggs, over easy and still steaming, fill the window boxes. The window shutters are buttered pieces of toast.

    The witch watches. A master in the art of attraction, she knows how to harness the senses, direct the attention, rein in the brain. No longer wary, the siblings approach.


    greengage plum
    the sweet glow
    of desire


  • Hanson, Jeffrey


    morning moon
    a skein of geese
    rises higher


    gentle rain
    the lilac blooms
    are gone


    becoming the sky
    a distant hill


    tree tops
    her memory
    never leaves

  • Hanson, Jeffrey

    the year’s first leaves
    three weeks late

  • Hemmings, Kyle

    a warhorse shadows my failing to wake up

    the child princess pulls ruined leaves from shade

    invisible monster i can't catch the sky w/ my mouth

    sleight-of-hand you keep dying in my bed

    which ringo can play with bound hands

    the blind princess traps me in see-through palms

    her arctic love tricks of failed porpoises

    her diary a collage of upside down uncles

  • Imperial, Alegria


    my eyes on foliage-d sky withering at zenith


    river-crossing a breeze wipes off my fate line


    mom’s nestled cheek in a boy’s breast my lover’s roost


    a fissured boulder at sunset could be me


    night’s gritty breath a sky I can’t find

  • J. Zimmerman

    wind dislodges
    small stones from the cliff
    rattles scrub-oak leaves ---
    the misty shape
    around your absence

    untrimmed candle wick ---
    the rainy dusk brightens
    in the flame's flicker
    third day of the vigil
    her hesitant breath

  • J. Zimmerman

    a young friend
    demonstrates wool spinning
    after six decades
    I'm once again a spinster ---
    the bitter taste of green tea

    sipping gunpowder tea
    he calls in the teashop "who
    can spell 'lecherous'?"
    when three women reply
    his smiling bow to each

  • Jack Galmitz

    In the sea depths
    fish that can't see
    find each other


    Fleeing across the plains
    I feel the heat on my neck
    of giant wings


  • Jackie Chou

    scorching heat
    under torn canopies
    street vendors


    my pink prom dress
    cherry blossoms

    team sport
    the bullied child
    gets picked last


  • Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah

  • Jacob Salzer

    electric guitar
    the reverberation
    of teenage dreams

    tuning the guitar
    the tension
    between us

  • Jacobson, Roberta Beach

    afternoon showers
    steady rhythm of raindrops
    - the scent of roses

    Mused / (July 2018)

  • Jacobson, Roberta Beach 

    farmers market
    at daybreak
    - scent of fresh thyme

  • Jamie Wimberly

    for all those
    left behind …
    falling leaves

    last dandelion stands watch
    autumn’s gate

    the weight and weariness –
    setting sun

  • Jay Friedenberg

    ragged breeze
    a cocooned butterfly
    jerks in the web

    the wind blows a mask
    down an empty street


  • Jeanne Lupton

    nessun dorma
    my heart opens at high C
    George Floyd is there
    the sob of a wild turkey
    the cry of a mourning dove


    for my cat
    who likes order
    I make the bed --
    at the SPCA
    she knew I was her person


  • Jennifer Carr

    toy gun my son suspended


    the itty bitty shitty committee between my ears won’t shut up


  • Jenny Ward Angyal

    buttercup petals
    cling to my bare feet—
    a hint of what I am


    deep green dreams
    breathing inside me
    the forest


    out of the mist
    a heron unfolds
    the koan


  • Jianqing Zheng




    spring sunset—
    the red pinwheel in an
    old man’s hand




    Kabul dawn—
    in the flower pot,
    a yellow daisy




    house for sale—
    pear blossoms over
    the fence





    spring dawn—
    the spider strand's glow




    spring sonata—
    the same cardinal
    from yesterday?

    Jianqing Zheng lives in Mississippi State, USA. His haiku's been published in a variety of publications. His book on Richard Wright’s haiku is forthcoming from the University Press of Mississippi in May 2011.