February 25, 2017

Overpass

The old country bridge, where I ran out of gas, was on the verge of collapse.  Stepping nervously from the car, the planks squeaked under my feet.  I gauged the speed of the river below and wondered where I'd wash up.

baby steps
the pitter patter
of thunder


Akitsu Quarterly Winter 2016 

February 18, 2017

Vigil

He was a rough and tumble artist, cut from the Bukowski cloth.  A two-fisted drinker, he rattled off poems late in the night when the madness overcame him.  His bloodshot eyes spoke to the fire that burned from within and from which he, finally, burnt out.

A small, but steady, group of pilgrims continue to visit his grave.  There are times, they claim, they can feel the heat of his spirit.

summer's end
shovelling ash
from the pit


Haibun Today Sept 2016

February 10, 2017

White Noise

"Bells on the backpack," she says, "will keep the bears away."  I listen, a little sceptically.  They would also let them know we're here.  I prefer the route of silence - slipping through the forest, ninja style.

coyote cry
I stub my toe
on a root  


Failed Haiku 1.8

February 05, 2017

Double A

I toss up a rock, hit it with a stick.  This time it lands half way across the river.  I toss another.  Strike one.  I'll never be ready for Opening Day.

spring training
her dad catches me
stealing second


Failed Haiku 1.7

dust devils, The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2016

January 29, 2017

second cup
I stir some sugar
into my headache


bottle rockets 35

January 22, 2017

night fog
she steps into
her ghost


Akitsu Quarterly Winter 2016

January 18, 2017

overcast
a ripple of fish
in the clouds


Under The Basho 2016

January 13, 2017

rain drops
a wheel barrow fills
with rust


Bamboo Hut Fall 2016

January 11, 2017

windswept leaf
the train I missed
in the distance


Failed Haiku 8

January 07, 2017

prairie sky
the wide view
of childhood


hedgerow 84 

January 04, 2017

the wind ...
I put a cap
on it


Under The Basho 2016

January 01, 2017

Year in review: My 5 best ku of 2016:


darkness ...
her name slips
into it

Acorn 37


empty field
a forgotten mitten
clutches snow

Akitsu Quarterly, Winter 2016


autumn dusk
we sit in the darkness
of each other

Prune Juice 19


creek side ...
my shadow swims
without me

Under the Basho, 2016


rustling leaves
the sound of children
after dark

Wild Plum, Fall 2016

December 28, 2016

empty field
a forgotten mitten
clutches snow


Akitsu Quarterly, Winter 2016

December 26, 2016

just when we thought
she'd live forever
starlight


hedgerow 97

December 22, 2016

pooling where the creek bends fish


tinywords 16.1

December 20, 2016

spare change
my conscience empties
my pocket


bottle rockets 35

December 17, 2016

twilight
every bird
a crow


Under The Basho 2016

December 14, 2016

finger paint
sunlight spreads
across her shirt


Bamboo Hut, Fall 2016

December 07, 2016

head lice
I pick through my son's
report card


Failed Haiku, issue 6

December 04, 2016

rustling leaves
the sound of children
after dark


Wild Plums 2.2