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

5 one-line poems at UndertheBasho (UtB)

where creation begins and ends onion scales


smoke and grey hair grandfather’s syllables receding the hours


fraught trail the tightness of wild lace shadowless


unbecoming is the moon because of bruises?


shrunken between trumpeted lies and ripped drums the ageing boor



UndertheBasho one-line poem  2020 July 11


July 29, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

my ku at UndertheBasho (UtB)


tinted brow

recycled otherwise

if unaccompanied


moss rock

under one’s tongue

from howl to whine-y


if foliage stricken

pull down

a cloud


dripping leaf

from a comet

that’s it?


the language of




UndertheBasho ku 2020



July 29, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

My latest at Bones journal

Bones journal of contemporary haiku #20 July 15, 2020
absent spring
(one-line sequence in the time of the COVID-19)
where absent spring fans out even weeds breathe their last
in the lilac’s loosened breast a somersault of soughing winds
the swarm of maps random drizzle crafted a helpless tangle on blackberry thorns
scratch marks in the mist a tremor of hands the only sound
incense plumes that hurt the eyes spiraled sighs off sealed-in scorn
between weeping trees and shifting storms tautened strings
ocean roar but grief unclogging lungs of leaf litter with shards of sky
still creeping up sand hills void of spring an unfinished palette bleeds the tides
single haiku
ripped from rants
debates about Eden
blistered wall
the gutter drip
slime molds
does talk consume
the elements?
Profuse thanks to Johannes S.H. Berg, Editor

July 16, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | 1 Comment

my haiku at Haiku 2020, the Modern Haiku Anthology

Just announced now available Haiku 2020, the Modern Haiku Anthology of 100 notable haiku from 2019 selected by editors Lee Gurga and Scott Metz of the award-winning Haiku 21 with an introductory essay by Richard Gilbert, author of The Disjunctive Dragonfly.

Pleased to have a haiku, my second (my first was in the 2014 anthology) in this one, too, as follows:


the pond

I lied to

first published in UndertheBasho ku,  June 19,2019 




Note: profuse thanks to Lee Gurga and Scott Metz and especially to Johannes S.H. Berg, editor who picked both published haiku.


July 5, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

Spangled Seasons


Under hazed New York

spheres, spring sousing Riverside, earlier

cocooned in the Moor shedding off

mover’s trip, bundled molehills against

walls –once sparks we strung

onto a nebulae over

nights on Federal Hill—you and

I trudge on.


Trails we looped

between Chesapeake,

Susquehanna and

the Hudson, Venus sputtering

on Pennsylvania woods these,

too, we tucked abreast in

memory, if Manhattan

spares us.


Our cherry

noon-s have leaped into infinity

from finiteness; as well warbled

peace from cypress groves at

Inner Harbor, dandelions mirroring

our masquerade, a yucca spurting

by the window squirrels flying

a trapeze on pines mocked,


ends of days orioles

griped about—we plucked to

spangle our seasons. Soon mere

revenant: Baltimore winters we

skidded, wincing but

un-bruised.  I posed for you

that summer cicadas plunged

into passion deaths, smearing


wind shields Fells Point’s

mists we eluded fogged.

Tall suns now spear

mornings at the Moor, we flex

our years on West Broadway: summers

on a mountain lake maybe, a bowery at

Brooklyn Gardens in the fall, sunset

behind Grant’s tomb perhaps, or by


Shakespeare’s lagoon, divining

on its surface the play

of wind on our



Poet of the Week, Poetry Super Highway, Nov. 1-7, 2010

May 25, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment



Shredded blooms,

hair parted in the wind,

the pavement wavering—

my cane unwilling

to step with me.


Light shimmers ahead

I swear I am on solid land.

But the air has turned into water

and I suddenly shed tears—

but I’m not crying.


The girl behind me

races a breeze and she stumbles.

My cane falls but I remain

suspended between air

and water uncertain—


I think I’m flying,

flying with the sparrows:

could they be lost?

Or falling wingless like the moths

from a pink tree.


Oh, my cane tiptoes

back to me winged, its crook a hand,

growing fingers, prodding me

to rise. I rise, stilled                                           

between white air and water                           


—the ground at least, has

ceased spinning.


by Alegria Imperial (Canada)

Honorable Mention

Passager Poetry Contest, 2007


also featured at Charlotte diGregorio’s blog for writers

May 24, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

“we do not bleed like nightingales when felled singing”

(four of thirty-one one-line poems in my recently published book, “we do not bleed like nightingales when felled singing”  at books)

a drizzle tinkling in parched pools

the wind-shaken birch piping old pains too late to replace

a cypress hedge nursing hoarseness since long ago

when the waning moon a pregnant sea receding in the swell


May 4, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

a beggar’s prayer


in the name of God who offers love,

who lets wings soar for free

like a sparrow i pray


i beg not for bread

for my spirit has no use

for crumbs that turn dust

in my quarantined existence


i beg not for words if thrown

like refuse—what seed

if it were stone could grow

on a mulch bed?


but I beg for eyes that open skies

hooded by grease,

a warm brew to douse my morning

to wash off the grit of my waking


i beg for arms the size

a home calls a hug a grip

to break the iceberg calloused

eyes have encased me


i ginger step to beg for a smile

on the slopes of indifference

where cheeks wall me in

to the emptiness


i beg for an answer to my prayer

the way God cups a broken sparrow

the way He lets a spirit soar

without begging


Sketchbook, ‘Let Us Pray’, 55 Sept-Oct 2011


April 15, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | 2 Comments

the day lily (parallel)

we wonder about paradise

                                           waiting for sunset

as if a beggar

                                                   the day lily

from far away

                                                   a whimper


Sonic Boom issue eleven 2018 (parallel)


March 28, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment

denouement (a sequence)


salt wind

in an empty shell


wave splatter
the sting of her tears


a gull’s cry

knee deep

in foam


her tipped toes

lingering on the tide- line



her argument


as in the afterlife

crusting on sand bars


contrary to guidelines

a sliver of her flesh



in the gloaming

a curdled refuse


bones: journal of contemporary haiku,  March 2018

March 27, 2020 Posted by | Uncategorized | Leave a comment