He writes haiku with a ballpoint pen impressing the paper

The force of the wind shown in all the smoke—- Wildfire season

In the old man’s voice the transparency of the stream the indifference of the fish

Across the table her trembling lapdog Happy Hour part of the floating world collection The Mississippi Portland

Hot sleepless nights the swish-swish of the rainbirds soaking the dead grass

Her fragrant pillow back from the dry cleaners— widower’s lament 7/13/18

If we go down the alley we can visit the Buddha garden and the chicken coop. 7/15/18

Politics is out of the question I’ve learned talking to chickens What is the question I’ve learned talking to chickens? This is a revision of a post-Trump election haiku posted today. The original was “politics is / out of the question I’ve learned / to talk to chickens.” But a friend raised some issues and […]

These comments assume you have a copy of Burl (Red Moon Press, 2012) nearby. This is an intentionally “naïve” reading. It is full of good will and acts of patience with oneself and exasperation too. This naïve reading does not assume anything is already disposed of between the reader and the book at hand. Zero […]

How often I slip on the slick leaves The Unequal pulls me up again   Notes The haiku is a “fall” haiku — the season is the scene of such happenings. Which happenings? The energy is leaving the world — leaving the leaves, which are rotting underfoot. Yet that energy — or is it a […]