Category: Issue 14.2

somewhere between
loneliness and solitude
a seagull’s cry

tapping trail dust
from the harmonica . . .
twilight stars

meteor shower
everyone complains
about the moon

 

Perseids
counting
mosquitoes

ancient night . . . what i know in the daylight disappears

 

summer solstice —
the glint of a buzzard’s wings
beneath the virga

 

circling
a word find —
the end of summer

First day of autumn
a sunflower turns
back toward earth
have I used it well
this life . . .

thunderclap —
the past tense he uses
to describe me

lightning
on a hedgehog’s spikes
raindrops

 

 

(originally appeared in 120th WHA Haiga Contest, May 2014)

evening news
two crows on the rim
of a satellite dish

 

end of the
corporate ladder
autumn thistle

 

He has, you will find,
two modes only, the chipmunk:
fast-forward; rewind.

 

 

 

[From his poem “News Headlines from the Homer Noble Farm”

I practice
letting go . . .
autumn morning

the radio drones
as I shave
my father’s face

breaking the skin
of an overripe peach
harvest moon

 

Peapods beaded
with raindrops
her arthritic fingers

 

my mother’s last word
a raised pinkie,
the letter I
in sign language:
our code for ice, more ice

the way
she chooses to die . . .
flowering plum

with her two hands
the artist frames
blue summer sky

the monarch’s shadow
I stop talking
on the phone

 

unfurling ferns
my mind
empties its thoughts

 

lightning

 

the
sword

 

swallower
swallows

two hands
become a lantern
firefly glow

Declaring a truce
     he slurps from his water gun   
         to cool himself.

 

 

 

 

First published in Modern Haiku (1.3, 1969) as part of the sequence “Boy

running a stick
across the slats —
spring peepers

festival
the boy too young
not to dance

It’s as if he plays
harmonica, the raccoon
with an ear of maize.

 

 

(From his poem “News Headlines from the Homer Noble Farm” published

wild mushrooms
all the shades
of autumn clouds

 

 

Autumn chill
the sound of the wind
on its way to the sea

through the cracks of sleep night wind

quarantine
an orange peel
fills the room

Addressing the dead —
every room an ear
turned toward me

security convention
I lose myself
in the crowd

 

a slow turn of the freighter incoming tide

crumbs
on her lips
the secret’s out

 

Airless summer days
     iridesce the silver throat
         of my tea kettle.

bingo night
at the nursing home
pink feather boas

 

 

doll’s house
pieces of my childhood
come together

heat lightning
the rain on the grass
reflects each strike

 

 

(Originally received 1st Prize in The Liverpool Virtual Book Fair Twitter Haiku Contest 2014

midnight foghorn
slow heartbeat
of the dark harbor

 

riverbank
the long wait
for darkness

coming home …
the outspread arms
of a shrimp boat

 

midnight jetty
the sound of water
slapping water

 

 

(Originally published in A Hundred Gourds 1:3, June 2012)

wild aster
why am i so easily
amused

 

in the gondolas
tourists photograph tourists
photographing them

 

alone at home
spending time with
my habits

unwell today …
lichen climbing
the lemon tree

more bad news
forces its way inside
our home …
a thin rim of snow
around the welcome mat

 

dinner for one–
she reheats the
argument

irish pub
our accents
grow thicker

 

In the surgeon’s voice
the tapping
of his mallet

 

 

(previously published in A Hundred Gourds, March 2013)

among footnotes a religion flowers and spreads

 

before the rain the hills a necklace of flames

first rain
in record drought
earth’s fragrance

 

midnight thunderstorm
her face in the lightning flash
suddenly closer

the time we are given…
sparks rise through darkness
to join the stars

weeping plums –
another fight
about nothing

 

 

(previously appeared in the May 2014 issue of a fine line, the magazine of the New Zealand Poetry Society)

holiday lights
the truth emerges
from dad's muddy bootprints