against the white lawn
frost-blackened figs…………………………………………………..Bill

someone else playing
someone else’s piano…
au clair de la lune……………………………………………………Melissa

with my good hand
uncreasing the photograph………………………………………..Sandra

in a church fresco
the Devil falls separate
from all the others……………………………………………………Bill

too small to house worms
so many green apples………………………………………………….Bill

a raffish display
his hot pants and spandex
lead the parade…………………………………………………….Willie

launching a rubber band at me
she misses again…………………………………………………….Melissa

a tarte au chocolat,
a steaming pot of tea
and this poem……………………………………………………..Sandra

wild plum blossoms
in the garden gone to ruin…………………………………………….Willie

all legs and tails
three newborn lambs
tumble out of the sack…………………………………………………..Sandra

past the old landslip
he thinks how it must have been……………………………………..Bill

without another word
one more sake;
the mattress comes to me………………………………………………Joseph

try and explain kapok
to a kid who doesn’t care……………………………………………… Sandra

inked above his heart
the tattoo reveals
a floating world……………………………………………………..         Willie

narratives in sparks
climb up the chimney……………………………………………………..Sandra

tarnished moon the colour of this wooden floor…………………. …Bill

the last note of the hymn
an owl’s hunting cry………………………………………………………..Sandra

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Melissa Allen, Wisconsin, USA
Bill Dennis, Pennsylvania, USA
Joseph Mueller, Vermont, USA
Sandra Simpson, Tauranga, New Zealand
William Sorlien, Minnesota, USA

Composed at Issa’s Snail, October 14 to December 2, 2012

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A Hundred Gourds 2.2, March 2013

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Great, now they have magnetic poetry on the refrigerator in the break room at work. Apparently no one actually wants me to do any work. 

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The Haiku Foundation likes to celebrate this little holiday by announcing the results of every single contest it runs. Like the Haiku Now contest. And the Touchstone Awards, for individual poems and for books. Wait…hey! I’m on that Touchstone Award list! They liked my poem!

Yeah, I really haven’t come up yet with a plausibly modest-sounding way of announcing that I’ve won an award. If you have, feel free to share.

Um, and also? There’s this anthology.

A New Resonance 8: Emerging Voices in English-Language Haiku

The main reason to purchase this anthology, of course, is for the gorgeous pictures of poppies on the cover. It will look fantastic on your coffee table. Secondarily, however, there’s poetry by me. And sixteen other poets whose company I’m kind of awestruck to be in.

Yes, those poets. You’ll hear our names often in the coming years, apparently. No mention of what context you’ll hear them in, of course. Hopefully not the crime blotter.

Anyway, as I was saying, happy Haiku Day.

Oh yeah…if you’re interested in buying the book, email me. Sob. I knew this blog would end up as a shameless commercial enterprise someday….

himn

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morentain

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truewards

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whyther

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screamn

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calculating
the lift required
harvest moon

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the sound of geese through the crosshairs

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hunter’s moon
he texts to say
he’s lonely

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…and it’s not even a full moon. I’m probably going to some kind of kigo hell.

“calculating”: Frogpond 36.1. “the sound” and “hunter’s moon”: Modern Haiku 44.1

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ohpening

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skeye

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summer night
a gunshot
interrupts the heat

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first star
cell phone glowing
at the end of the dock

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Presence 47

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I thought it was time to haul out some of the warm-weather ku that I felt dumb posting during the winter. Yeah, I know that forty-five doesn’t really count as “warmer” to most people, but welcome to Wisconsin.

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