Category Archives: Haiku/Tanka/Rengu

How it begins.

“Every Action done in Company, ought to be with Some Sign of Respect, to those that are Present.” G. Washington.

There was a great plaza, speckled with a small crowd. There was a long aisle, flanked by seated strangers. There was a man in a suit. There was a woman wearing white rags. Were there flowers? There must have been. There was a Bible, or two, or a church perhaps. There were witnesses, or there were none. There was a fist held high. There were fires, large and small. A candle. A crying out. There were promises made, promises made, promises made, and a heart as clear as a bell heard the hollow echo.

He wiped away tears.
This was just what he’d wished for.
She braced herself, stiff.

Memories of Plums

Japanese Paper: Plum Blossoms


Stamens whisker-long,
tender as velveted paws,


So many ripe, falling,
the ground slippery with stones,
the sweet scent of rot.


Leaves gnarled with bugbites,
rimmed at the edges with gold,
crisp cascade to earth.


The small old tree bent
black and grey against the snow.
Brittle, the twigs snapped.

Fragment of Network

Neighbors arrive home,
eat dinner, fire up Netflix,
computers and phones.

Bandwidth slows, shrinks, stutters, stalls;
waves crashing amid beachballs.

Fragment of Storm

thunder that began
like boulders, roars, & crumbles
to gravel curses

Fragment of Fever

heat waves ripple off
the street — black, gray, white, and gold —
my brain wavering.

Fragment of Relief

crawling, numb pressure,
tickling in the throat, the chest.
when all else fails, rum.

Fragment of Egg

Crack the egg. Pour.
A piece of shell falls in, too.
She smiles at the yolk.

Remembering Montebello

MonteBello: Wreath of Crystallized Heat

Mariachi pours
into sun & sizzling gold
onions & egg yolks.

Erosion of Scales

bald patches on wings
show where butterflies have shed
the bloom of their youth

late Spring stars, pastel
green & cream, teeter over
a red passion point

the sunrise place shows
the price to be received, or
the price to be paid

fish for dinner means
the dull knife scrapes the wrong way,
scales fly everywhere

the indigo just
shed its skin, gleaming black-blue,
(dry, soft, tasting musk)

hairspray mists around
teased hair stripped roughly downward
for the school’s Spring play

dark surrounds the flame
of one lit candle, carried
by a voice singing,
its melody bent modal,
as it winds from old to new

Erosion of the Vertical

Falling Tree

Pine needles bud blonde.
One trunk gone gray drops branches,
bark sheets loose, bugs gnaw,

until the whole tree goes limp,
stands drunk in wind, cracked crazy.