Category: Issue 13.2

summer solstice— the Shiraz we’ve been waiting to open

fresh tear in the screen door summer arrives

windy picnic a tree seasons the guacamole

empty lawn chairs all our serious talk last night

cleaning both sides of the sliding glass door– bird song

magpie calls the verses we exchange by email

skywriting all the disappearing words between us     (Second Place, 17th International Kusamakura Haiku Competition)

my side of it— wet potato peelings land in the sink

river current I practice letting go

out of the ocean the moon lifts

between islands a ferry dissolving in the mist

a boat’s lone light rocks between sky and sea

no gears to shift acclimating to island time

fresh paint on the water tower tourist season

trash day– a drum set in the pouring rain

oats porridge— between mouthfuls the usual silence

tinted mirror what I think I believe

deep in debt I answer the phone as my son

hiding in everything plain sight

pre-op the nurse writes yes on my breast

spring hail … the moment I chose to live   (Previously published in Mu, 2012)

we live beyond us lowering the weeping cherry into moist soil

“High Iron”, a haibun by Angele Ellis

day moon the tethered weight of father’s watch

after the funeral the task of managing her secrets

roses lost in weeds– her teacup filling again with cold rain

chrysanthemum garden in this world too bomb makers

my memory good enough to keep me up

evening birdsong the storm clouds that came to nothing

winter roses — trying to remember trying to forget

orion my mind back at the source of words

before mass all heads bowed to smart phones

day moon even here I’m somewhere else

with my child on my shoulder, I walk in the long rain carrying the heaviness of shattered dreams

inchworm measuring a child’s palm  

childhood map trees and hills we gave names

the crawl of the pool vacuum dog days

dry wind a saguaro catches falling stars

midday heat still ticking abandoned bicycle

twice past the same buoy catfish in a pail

dry well I haul up a bucket filled with summer

joint checking — our last casualty of war

male gaze the female in me squares up her arms

arms race how quickly can you fold paper cranes

where the waterfall becomes a river… prayer at dawn

sunflower heart the chiffchaff sings its name  

milkweed a glimpse of her without her disability

cowlick some part of me still wild

first night in her bed wild geese

I stop in the zebra crossing for the full moon

disused road roots resurfacing

clean the house or read haiku. . . the dust thickens

mackerel clouds silver gulls squabble over the bones

unweathered slats in the old dune fence plover trills

week fourteen my wine glass full of water

burning off the spirits the bright blue flame

zazen– my knees won’t stop talking

haiku panel every speaker goes overtime

listening to the game on the riding mower long drive to deep center

new neighbor a stone buddha smiles back at the garden gnome

unexpected heat a mannequin winks at me

lemon wedges line the path — summer’s end

moving forward and staying in place chrysalis

indian summer the child still at home already gone     (originally published in Acorn 29, Fall 2012)