Haibun for Bill Higginson
I started publishing haiku in 2000, before I really even knew what it was. I found poems that I liked in a book and started sending them to a mailing list, to friends’
Tag: haibun
at home
bay window
no matter the season
drawn curtains
he’s not what you’d call sociable. sometimes he just starts yelling for no reason. but there’s
sight unseen
my maternal grandfather passed away on june 22 1980 from black lung thanks to 16 years of drilling chopping & chipping coal down in the guts of the white star mineral
Winter Stars
My neighbor fills her winter garden with oaktag cut-outs of red and yellow stars—hangs them from her bird feeder or glues them atop the planting sticks she’s
Black Dog
“You know”, he confided, “I want to walk in front of a truck. My little girls would be much better off. I am the reject of the family. My wife tells
Faster and Faster
20,000 years on average from the Sun’s core to its surface.
About 8 minutes and 18 seconds from the Sun to Moon.
One more second from the Moon to Earth.
crisp night
For Two Horses By the Fence at VCCA
They stand there, side-by-side, seemingly unmoving, gazing off toward the mountains. Now and then the darker one slowly turns his head to look at me, one brown eye
Float
Thousands, perhaps millions, are floating under the sea—jellyfish, and shaped like umbrellas. But she looks different. She reflects purple and silver light.
Oasis
We walk under a scorching sun next to the river. He is my guide. Decades younger than me. Yet every time he speaks, I blush. His voice is soft. I barely hear him above the
Carnival Elephant
I lifted a single peanut up to the great animal. His trunk, as thick as a fire hose, brushed past my small offering and went for what I held in my other hand—the whole
September 11
Living in New Jersey, it was noon before I turned on the TV and heard that the planes had hit the towers. My first thought was of my ex-girlfriend, who was still a friend.
Twilight
and it gives off the kind of hot chill one can get at times of transition. fever in a meadow, when the sun hangs on while evening cools the tall grasses in which you stand
South Coast, Aqaba
We stand on the shore, a plastic bag of fins, masks and snorkels on the sand between us. A cold wind sends whitecaps scudding over the Red Sea. Without looking at one another,
Nighthawks
tonight her breathing’s more shallow. i try to find her favorite songs. search quickly on my iPad. “mack the knife ” by Bobby; replays of Vera’s,
Hiking
up to look down at the Blue Nile Falls, the mist rising into the camera's frame
rheumy eyes calculating the price of my guilt