Category: Issue 20.2

late summer sunflowers make their entrance  

the closed-up amusement park cicadas roar  

fireflies on the outskirts of a moment  

lemonade stand the play of light and shadow on her masked face  

dandelion field September floats away  

a sad song on repeat September leaves    

COVID summer swinging from the tetherball pole a length of spider web  

faint stars the sidewalk stains of wild mulberries    

thin summer bargaining for more  

covid summer recycling travel brochures

breezy sunshine on baseball’s opening day cutout fans

stealing home the dragonfly darts from reeds to shore

dugout chatter house sparrows

the barn owl shaking his head debate night

harvest moon laughter bubbles from the neighbor’s hot tub  

autumn in the air a flit-dip of chickadees

old kite that never flew … early autumn

yellow flecks the evening sky fallen apples    

hard frost a blue tarp saddles the old barn’s roof  

not yet ready to head back inside coyote mind  

pandemic the welcome mat removed  

face mask the eyes reveal only so much    

trick-or-treating the warmth of the skeleton’s hand  

All Hallow’s Eve the demons not wearing their masks

gradually i resemble the corpse i will be    

plague year another wave from the President

wind in the wind chimes early morning thoughts of the afterlife    

lost in the corn maze autumn wind  

updating my employment status falling leaves  

morning mist we step into nothing    

a soldier’s return hill-country bluebonnets line the road  

the ones saved for the confessional war stories

fireworks… phantasms turn to gunsmoke      

thunder I slide a kigo into the gun  

I am the city twice born imprisoned with no key to return a nonchalant moon passes through

new inmate on the inside of her wrists butterfly tattoos    

in the dark the sound gun’s safety    

lockdown - a tin can rolling back and forth with the wind

supermarket queue within our circles within ourselves    

autumn a little more paprika        

“Essential” — a short haibun by Jonathan Roman

lifting the tips of a spruce tree’s needles November sun  

a rustling from within deep autumn      

crowded café a fly goes in and out of our conversation      

spider in a web trapping stars       (Originally published in Akitsu Quarterly, Spring 2020)

midnight a dog barks the freight train’s length      

humpback moon into the krill’s silence distant song      

higher tides crabs scuttling on asphalt      

storm surge– the rising cost of beach sand    

blistering heat a little bounce in the asphalt        

melting glaciers the river styx widens        

all the plans we thought we had sandcastles (haiga)

art installation learning again what I don’t know    

art installation learning again what I don’t know      

library room- i read her page by page  

first raindrop words then the story sinks in    

lab report … in my sister’s voice winter rain    

paper cut the medical bill’s sharp edge  

dried flowers all that remains of my prayers    

on the walking path I disappear inside my mask      

sheltering the white flutter of prayer flags    

folding prayers. . . a thousand paper cranes kindling this flame for peace  

thin edge of entropy winter stars

chimes the wind in place

vineyard tasting the sunset

lifting a glass to my dear friends… winter stars  

New Year — I regret last year’s resolutions      

moving again Buddha in a box labeled fragile    

new sheets on a new bed a new loneliness

half moon … a love that never was

silver heron a splash of moonlight across the pier

kingfisher a rattle as the river turns south    

morning heat the neighbor packs down his cigarettes  

early summer a small town traffic light green for no one  

rural isolation the secret life of dandelions

summer heat more fruit flies than fruit  

summer quiet the tallest daylily sways  

a hole through the magnolias flower moon

porch lights a trombone slides into the night  

sand castle already the waves make themselves at home  

a buoy bobs in the wake zone lulled gulls

rehashing an old argument frost heaves

winter night we wrap ourselves up in rumors

snow angel the wings still a good fit  

blizzard conditions signs of life in the bread dough  

cutting roses back to bone my father’s iron love

the neighbor boy saws his cello off-key– spring breeze

treehouse . . . I pretend to make-believe  

emptying the bird bath sumo sparrows    

spring sunrise the length of a toppled pine  

last light my body echoes with frog song