August 13, 2017

hedgerow ...
a ball bursts into
sparrows


Under the Basho 2017

August 08, 2017

only the tips
of my toes
mountain stream


hedgerow 97 

August 05, 2017

Slim Being, Health Guru: A Lifetime of Lethargy


Are there any fitness nuts in your office? Bodybuilders?  Triathletes perhaps?  If so, then you know “that guy” to whom I’m referring. He walks, rather struts, from cubicle to cubicle, at ease in his tapered shirt and slim-fitting khakis.  His vocabulary is a tapestry of phrases such as “amino acid recovery”, “glycemic overload”, and “high-intensity, high-impact cardiovascular threshold expansion intervals.”  And he is always certain to pay special attention to the young, corporate cuties:  flashing his bleached white smile to their respondent giggles and coos.

anaerobic capacity
we stumble over
his words

As overbearing as “that guy” is, you can take some comfort in the knowledge that his day of reckoning is coming.  For part and parcel with his comments regarding “stamina enhancement through periodization” are the subtle, but increasing, complaints about stiff joints and tight muscles.  Beginning as humble-brags, “a little sore from that 25 km run yesterday”, his tender tweaks grow into painful injuries that, ultimately, result in surgeries.  There is an important truth that the high performance athlete never seems to understand:  any one set of ankles, any one set of knees, and any one lower back can only withstand so much movement in the course of one lifetime.  “That guy” uses all of his movement in one fitful, early burst, only to find himself restrained to his couch for a long, and agonizing, lifetime of lethargy thereafter.

ice pack
he cools
his ambition

Here at www.BeingAsSlimAsImBeing.org, we recognize the value of balance, both day-to-day and over the course of our lives.  We encourage you to learn from, and avoid, the mistakes of “that guy”.   Don’t waste your time and effort engaged in excessive exercises that lead to an early, and painful, retirement on the couch.  Circumvent the problem by getting on the couch NOW!  The couch is your final destination.  Best to sit or, for the sedentarily ambitious, lie back to enjoy the benefits of a pain-free dormancy before it is too late.  To help you in transition, we suggest the following link:  www.tvguide.com.

world of wonder
the life I lead
through Discovery



Contemporary Haibun Online, October 2016

July 16, 2017

not looking
ahead too far
autumn fog


Failed Haiku 2.5

July 12, 2017

window pane
a moth bumps into
starlight


Akitsu Quarterly Spring 2017 

July 10, 2017

evening train
I squeeze into
my headphones


Otata April 2017

July 04, 2017

last rites ...
footprints fill
with snow


Acorn 38

June 27, 2017

setting sun
I sit on the bench
with five fouls


hedgerow 114

June 24, 2017

late innings ...
the mound
of sunflower seeds


Modern Haiku 48.2

June 22, 2017

dream of flight
I spread the wings
of my hammock


Bamboo Hut Fall 2016

June 17, 2017

falling leaves
a boy plays catch
with the wind


Failed Haiku 2.5

June 15, 2017

with a flip
of the switch
all the darkness


hedgerow 107 

June 14, 2017

morning fog
I shake a hand
that claims we've met


Otata April 2017

June 13, 2017

recess bell
the playground fills
with wind


Wild Plum spring 2017

June 02, 2017

window seat
I reflect on where
I'd rather be


Prune Juice March 2017 

May 30, 2017

withered rose
I get a sext
not meant for me


Failed Haiku 1.8

May 29, 2017

creek side ...
my shadow swims
without me


Under the Basho, 2016

May 28, 2017

evening chill ...
a gardener deadheads
summer


Akitsu Quarterly Winter 2016

May 27, 2017

winter bells
a puck rings off
the crossbar


Bamboo Hut Spring 2017

May 25, 2017

underfoot
a twig snaps
my silence


Under The Basho 2016

April 14, 2017

old mitten
I patch its holes
with snow


Failed Haiku 12

April 07, 2017

lilac bush
the thickness of
my breath


Under The Basho 2016

April 03, 2017

night winds
my courage the size
of the peephole


Failed Haiku Issue 5
dust devils The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku 2016

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