USA

  • Gallia, Al

    a tumbleweed
    bounces over the fence...
    squealing windmill

     

    a coyote’s yipping
    echoes in the canyon...
    sage fills the night air

     

    the old man
    kisses her empty pillow...
    tears add to the stain

  • Gambutti, Mary Ellen

  • Gargiulo, Marita

           f

         l

       o

    w        w

                    h

                        i

                           s

                               t

                                  l

                                     e

    things better left

    unsaid

  • Gary Hittmeyer

    daylight wanes
    an autumn breeze finds
    the last pine cone

     

  • Gary Hittmeyer

    hidden rills
    the waterfalls splashing
    moonlight

    cattails Oct 2019

     

  • Gary Hittmeyer

    lost in the
    late purple day
    lupine valley

     

    low clouds
    I try to remember
    the mountain top

     

  • Gary Hittmeyer

    looking for relief
    my thumbprints
    devise an exit strategy

     

    or full body groomer the relatives of TV stars

     

    kneeling before idols under the light of lawless suns

     

    precise contours of metaphors slip away into

     

  • general relativity

    Some prefer roses, others nettles — just two sides of the same coin. Truth and falsehood are simply shifting states of perspective, dependent on the observer. One's religion or philosophy is as logical or incoherent as the next; call it as you see it. Justice is not only blind, it is senselessly ambivalent. Positive or negative, matter or anti-matter, it's immaterial. And the paths of Right or Wrong are poorly marked; they're indeterminate and inconsequential. In any case, they intertwine along the way and converge at the fuzzy gray horizon of self-doubt.

     

    north south east or west?
    the compass needle just spins —
    oh, whatever.............

  • Geoff M. Pope

  • Geyer, Pat

    now and then
    thrush raises her head
    winter rain


    closer to the sun
    the sound of dry leaves
    crunches underfoot



    ticks and tocks
    resound through the night
    dawn explodes


  • Geyer, Pat

    charting
    the maps of age
    spider veins

    cattails January 2014 Premier Issue

  • Geyer, Pat

     

  • Gone in the Morning

    in a sea of tattoos—I buy an eighth and slink out

    he explains to hear ad nauseum how i wish i had a stiff drink

    hearing only half of what he mutters, she is splitsville!

    bending cosmos another basketball team checking in

    as she sleeps, a spider spins gossamer across the hoops in her earlobes

    red blanket and cool sheets these bones carry much stress

    *

    I marry the milkmaid for her handiwork—she marries me for the practice

    i fill my mouth with you the shadows now turning

    it's a long walk back from the brothel—I decide to spin the night

    spring thunder his hardon prominent when we speak

    she swears she'd rather choke on a chicken bone

    eating from Hibachi again lobby silence and our breathing

    transfixed by the way she fills out her cashmere—goats will eat anything

    aimless aimless these slate grey walls are depressing

    he propositions me as I swish past the red lights

    another question: you walk away with my smile

    fake smile, false teeth, silicone breasts—my kind of guy

    another noir film my computer reboots

    *

    rainbow flags on his toenails—Rock Hudson in Magnificent Obsession

    today deciding to stay in bed no social media at all

    fourteen galaxies merging in the distant universe we still can't get along

    more messages still watching my movie

    exchanging emails with a new friend bursting with enthusiasm

    not sure if these are haiku bad things done in Nazarene's name

    big hole in my sock I never throw anything away

    shopping at the supermarket i deeply despise daddy

    organic fruits and vegetables taking a bite out of my budget

    early noon: one of those days i don't wanna talk

    Facebook friend—she ups the ante with a Face Time call

    enjoying chocolate another guest slides me his number

    *

    dominatrix goes off script—the many uses of a police baton

    cabin fever: edge of her turquoise bikini

    lipstick in hard to reach places—gone in the morning

    crushed silk curtains practicing 'Autumn Leaves' in silence

    cigarette burns on the hotel room carpet—a broken high heel shoe

    witch of Endor who conjures up dead leaves?

    *** 
    Michael H. Lester, Los Angeles, California, USA
    Akane, Dallas, Texas, USA

  • Grahn, Richard

    Make that a Double

    Mom had a poodle named Martini. She did love that dog but may have loved the liquid indulgence even more. I mean, she always pampered that mutt but she could also outdrink a fish. The haircuts, ribbons, bows and extra olives certainly made for a colorful childhood no matter how you choose to look at it. Anyway, I’m just sitting here right now, idly sipping a memory of the two of them, enjoying a little hair of the dog and ambivalently wondering if pets are allowed on the furniture in heaven.

    moonrise at sunset…
    shadows of wildflowers
    in his hand

    Contemporary Haibun Online, Volume 14, Number 2, July 2018

  • Grahn, Richard

  • Great Grandma

    in silence
    the old woman’s head
    sinks to her chest

    vacant eyes
    words escape
    great grandma

    whispering: be careful
    sound of a door closing

    telling stories
    she stops
    mid-sentence

    theater of the absurd
    she never liked politics

    cracking jokes
    great grandma laughs
    one last time

    lights out
    the ceiling fan
    keeps spinning

  • Greer, Laurie

    crickets
    speaking up again—
    All Souls’ Day

     

    streets
    lined with stems…
    middle of nowhere

  • Greg Longenecker

    the rustle
    of tomorrow
    lupine pod

     

    the white robe
    of a cresting sea
    winter moon

     

    fall sunset
    the red rouge
    of wildfire

     

    early morning
    the unexpected balm
    of autumn dew

     

    the long sigh
    of a sycamore
    first fall breeze

  • Greg Longenecker

    bone flute a passing note

     

    whatever you make of him snowbuddha

     

    on the out breath milky way

     

    my memories of her mirror shards

  • Gregory Longenecker

    music box somewhere Inside yesterday

    Sonic Boom. March, 2017