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 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



dog buries



hobbling out of my midnight winter moon


apple core

how to bottle



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

a simple test (a non-haikai play of verses)


what cranks the wheel

why we need to care

which way to hold an infant

how to wipe dry the tears

when to turn away an eye


whose hand to hold on a cliff

whatever happens in dreams

whichever flower to lay on a tomb

however a name sounds

whenever a manacle breaks

whosoever belongs to whom

where to bury endings


because wounds bleed

laughter crackles

smiles break walls

sobs thicken nights

giggles bring in the dawn

sighs stir cankered clouds

words breathe life to bones

wings shade a peregrine

ponds feed moonlight


I will brave the deep

vow on a mountain

promise with the galaxies

pledge on steel

believe moons stay

November 12, 2014 Posted by | free verse, poetry, reflection | , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

conversations…a tanka duet


we do try
to strain storm dregs
old selves on a wire mesh
in bus conversations


leaf orange boy
leaning on his elbow
point by point
on Confucius with dad
knee-high in fall

posted at Tanka Poets in Site (facebook)

November 6, 2014 Posted by | poetry, tanka | , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

STREET NEWS an experiment on mixing haibun and haiga (haibunga)

streetnews1 haiga3


Street news (a haibun)

A school of clams caused a shoreline village to gather whispers. A fisherman proposed that the shaman must talk to the chief clam. What about? A boy asked. The chief clam passed the word around…


hum by hum

moonlight floods

the secret code


Betrayed, the villagers turned to the clams and pried them open. In the streets, a furor rages…


about time

the chill turns

a white page

October 8, 2014 Posted by | haibun, haiga, poetry | , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

more throwback tanka…another ‘duet’


the sea unloads

its burdens

still i cling

to you


in the wind

a wailing dove

you won’t see

as i bend a shadow

beyond yours


Alegria Imperial, Multiverses, Spring 2012

October 7, 2014 Posted by | poetry, tanka | , , , , , , | Leave a comment

another throwback post…a tanka ‘duet’ at LYNX journal

as the moon

transforms in sunlight

we shift roles

you into a clown, i

a hummingbird


in my palm

the fortune teller

traces lines

one slides off my destiny

away from yours


LYNX  XXVII:I February 2012


October 6, 2014 Posted by | poetry, tanka | , , , , , | Leave a comment

a throwback post…3 tanka at GUSTS Winter 2013

should I

consider my missteps

to understand…

how the Milky Way ended

with me in this pond?


like layers

of sunlight among weeds

our words

thrive on silence…until gushing

we burst into flowers


the twisted twig

of an old cedar leans


as if the wind senses

my every longing


GUSTS Fall/Winter 2013 (Tanka Canada)

September 30, 2014 Posted by | poetry, tanka | , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

dust once, a haibun


Oh, the map I use? It’s uncharted and unnamed. It’s wild woods and volcanic rocks. There are lakes and rice field puddles but also marsh and hot spring pools, smoky from the depths. Unless ‘I find a flower I can name’, it’s hard even for me to find my way back. Birds sing and talk but mostly unseen except the owl. Sometimes, he reveals their name. I’ve taken notes but forget about them the moment I walk away. My map always seems new, uncharted and unnamed. I know it’s not good but maybe the owl will help someday somehow.

dust once…

somehow a chicken knows

some stones


Lakeview International Journal of Literature and the Arts August 2013

(a kind of short autobiography)

September 25, 2014 Posted by | haibun | , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Meanwhile, I’m writing non-haikai* poetry–here’s my 14th

No. 14 (non-haikai) curlicues


who would imagine

a laced peace banquet of soldier ants

bowling over a strange lobster


as war winds whoosh in

tumbling half filled cups


meanwhile, hidden in bushes

a truce between magpies stalls

over recyclable ladles


beyond the gates

arthritic oak limbs crackle


as a diagnosis befalls

dusky walls about an orphan’s

spelling of melan chocolic


somewhere, a homecoming sergeant

with wounds missing skin eats a map


as devastation news

swarm on beaches where algae

turns toxic red dye


a moss hill rises on a hero’s nose

and on the street renamed Desire…erasures


in a battle manifesto


*nod to Johannes S.H. Berg, editor of bones, a journal for new haiku, who coined non-haikai rising as they do from a swarm of haiku. Tell me, what you think, will you please?

September 19, 2014 Posted by | haiku | , , , , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment