Gnarled rest-home fingers— like roots coiling into themselves —remember their parents.
First, let's start with what a haiku is not. It is not (necessarily) 5-7-5... A haiku is not a poem about absolutely anything you like, composed of seventeen syllables that are dispersed over three lines. In fact, a haiku’s 5-7-5 syllable structure is one of its least important attributes. This kid gets it: You may… Continue reading What are haiku (and are you actually writing them)?
black pixels on white pixels; impersonating three lines of text —the haiku is not zen enough
I returned to my old home at the beginning of the ninth month. The day lilies in my mother’s room had all been withered by the frost, and nothing was left of them now. Everything was changed from what it used to be. My brother’s hair was white at the temples, and there were wrinkles… Continue reading A Haibun by Bashō
A startled butterfly flutters through the concert hall; each neon flap a tiny light show vanquishing darkness, but the crowd’s eyes reflect pyrotechnics centrestage—the spectacle!
A wild wind swashbuckles in, irrepressible— vases deflowered, scuttled tea boats, dressers laid bare! Mended dishes still reminisce, cast aquiver in its wake.
Noon’s light silent on an open door, shadows lengthen, the door locks shut— knocks unheard in the morning sun.
An hour’s break – the dying bumblebee underfoot; as grey as an office worker.
A woman floats through a dream. In your dream, she dreams of you— in hers, another floats dreaming through.
Another mirror in a thousand pieces— sweep the floor clean, leave the wall bare.