Gnarled rest-home fingers— like roots coiling into themselves —remember their parents.
though soon old, ripened fruits cling to limbs a breeze comes through to steal a kiss— this endless, looming summer
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!
I am not lying on the floor of my apartment a cool breeze passing over me on a Summer’s day I am not thermoreceptors constricting blood flow in Mexican waves of excitatory response across skin dermis I am the wind
they fell in love so hard he followered her into zen his poetry now spoke of things he yearned to believe in in her journey to enlightenment she understood the obstacle she severed those earthly bonds resolute and unmistakable yet continued to love him in a way he pretended not to recognise a wounded dove… Continue reading in love with love
Look again! Look again! Look again!
You came in with a plate of mango, in your worn converse shell toes, and in that moment the music stopped reminding me of her.