HAIKU

after the rain
the moon
hanging out to dry

• • • • • •

All Hallows’ Eve…
trash thuds
in the funeral home dumpster

• • • • • •

All Souls’ Day…
a shattered pumpkin
grins

• • • • • •

an instant of sun
on her face at the stoplight…
her black eye

• • • • • •

autumn evening…
one firefly
moving away

• • • • • •

autumn evening…
the undertaker watches
an old man walk by

• • • • • •

autumn rain
louder on the roof…
knowing I’m dying

• • • • • •

Bang!
Orion’s belt
loosening

• • • • • •

block after block
of tenements…
a face in the window

• • • • • •

cat
in the sunrise sunlight
under the Olds

• • • • • •

children’s laughter…
the taste of Kool-Aid, the scent
of corn being shucked

• • • • • •

Christmas Eve…
snow falling
in the cedar stand

• • • • • •

crickets…
radio tower lights
blinking

• • • • • •

dead squirrel…
one leaf, spinning
as it falls

• • • • • •

dozer driver
pulling levers
under a parasol

• • • • • •

fly…
frogtongue

• • • • • •

four fans blowing…
the cat cleans herself
on the leather chair

• • • • • •

four fat girls
from the halfway house
holding hands, singing

• • • • • •

full moon…
the cat trotting
up the fire escape

• • • • • •

her praying hands
in the steam
from her coffee cup

• • • • • •

his windless
funeral morning…
damned bluebirds

• • • • • •

“How’s my driving?”
on the truck
in the ditch

• • • • • •

in steep silence
swifts, flutter-falling
into the chimney

• • • • • •

in the firelight
the warm blond wood
of my guitar

• • • • • •

jet
passing Jupiter; contrails
lit by the moon

• • • • • •

lake mist
polished stars…the sound of
pee on the grass

• • • • • •

light snow
bare branch
blue jay

• • • • • •

little girl
reaches for daddy’s hand…
tattooed nude

• • • • • •

mountain highway…
the moon sets,
rises, sets again

• • • • • •

mountain vista…
fog
in the creases

• • • • • •

my father’s silence…
remembering how he turned
bread crumbs into birds

• • • • • •

no sound at all
from the dog in his house…
steady rain

• • • • • •

powder-blue Pontiac…
lilacs strewn
all over the yard

• • • • • •

power humming
toward my computer
under a mockingbird’s feet

• • • • • •

pristine morning…
blue smoke from tailpipes
in still columns

• • • • • •

quarter moon settling
into the pinetops…
Ashland City 12

• • • • • •

quickly
past the gauze curtains
onetwo three birds

• • • • • •

rain falling
on the yellow Tercel’s
black bumper

• • • • • •

rainy morning…
my head floating
in my coffee cup

• • • • • •

rainy morning…
hearing the rust
in my neighbor’s wind chimes

• • • • • •

red satin…
my lips touch the hollows
of her shoulder blades

• • • • • •

a mockingbird
turning bugs & berries
into songs

• • • • • •

rough-hewn post
slowly
the cow’s head turns

• • • • • •

she stares at the moon,
trying to make out
Neil Armstrong’s footprints

• • • • • •

smoke
in the distance…
a squirrel’s tail arches

• • • • • •

snow melting
on the welcome mat…
sagging galoshes

• • • • • •

someone’s cough
lingers…the church’s
silence

• • • • • •

standing with my book
in perfect stillness, waiting
for a bird to watch

• • • • • •

starlit night…
in the silent garage,
my dad’s telescope

• • • • • •

suddenly moths
into the headlights…
skunkscent

• • • • • •

summer evening…
the cat asleep
on the yoga mat

• • • • • •

summer heat…
a beetle
clambers through the straw

• • • • • •

sun on the porch…
the undertaker & his cat
yawning

• • • • • •

the kids swarm…
blade gleams summer night sidewalk
old Frank goes down

• • • • • •

3:27
:12 :13 :14 :15
:16 :17

• • • • • •

through 10x50s
impact craters
on the harvest moon

• • • • • •

tiny spider
rappelling
from the ceiling

• • • • • •

winding country road…
the moon shifts
shoulder to shoulder

• • • • • •

wipers slapping…
boxcar boxcar boxcar
boxcar boxcar

• • • • • •

woven
into the sparrow’s nest…
dental floss

• • • • • •

a mockingbird
turning bugs & berries
into songs

• • • • • •

This was among the first I
ever wrote. It isn’t really a
haiku, since it uses simile,
although I didn’t know that
at the time. Rolling Stone
published it anyway.

her wake swells, empty
& silent; leaving, she took
the moon like a kite

 

 

Skills

Posted on

June 6, 2014