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.

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.

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.

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