jornales

for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

Window by window and We (two ‘tiny’ haibun at Prune Juice)

Window by window 

She peels her mornings.  A miser of darkness, she lets the sun in by strands. I saw her once. She is a flower.  

at the cusp 

of Cancer and Leo 

a fire wheel

 

We

We write our names together. It’s marriage says the book. Our meals apart. It’s work. We feed different nights. In different skies. What then is it?

cross wind—

cliffs echoing

wrong echoes 

 

prune juice November 2014

 

November 25, 2014 Posted by | haibun, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

random seasons, a haiku/senryu series

stone wall

mottled hands escaping

through air

 

ham flavor

hangs about her sweater

hospice weekend

 

though touch-less

the intimate rustle of silk

 

fall

dog buries

bruises

 

hobbling out of my midnight winter moon

 

apple core

how to bottle

memories

 

a tiger

musing on my eye

autumn dusk

 

chopped beets

i wash the knife

of traces

 

open page

an opaque scent

in his bath water

 

oak stump–

i remember the hornets

last summer

 

shell shards

on a paint roller

a womb

 

November 25, 2014 Posted by | haiku, poetry, senryu | , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment