A blog devoted mainly to haiku and senryu and to thoughts about, and inspired by, haiku and senryu.

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Location: New York, New York

Haiku is to poetry as espresso is to coffee.

Sunday, March 29, 2009


garden Buddha
morning rain washes away
the snow
[First published at Temps libres]
Here's how it goes in Serge Tome's translation
Bouddha de jardin
la pluie du matin lave
la neige

Thursday, March 26, 2009


the age
I used to call old . . .
winter solstice
A winter solstice poem after the vernal equinox? This was, of course, written a while back. I was waiting for it to appear at temps libre. Here's how it looks in French (translation by Serge Tome):
que j'ai l'habitude d'appeler vieux . . .
solstice d'hiver
This was in part motivated by the fact that the solstice falls a few days before my birthday, and the most recent one, as regular readers of this blog know, was number 76.

Saturday, March 21, 2009

March 20, 2009

violets all over
my neighbor's lawn
snow falling
on violets
Both true.

Wednesday, March 18, 2009

summer night

summer night
the ambulance
pulses red
This is obviously out of season, at least in the northern hemisphere. It was written for a kukai in which "color" was the assigned theme. "snow crust," which I posted recently, was written for the same kukai.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

autumn rain

autumn rain
she lights her cigarette
from his
[First published in The Heron's Nest]

Friday, March 06, 2009

March 6, 2009

Here's one I just posted at Andrew's blog, in response to one of his. In posting it here, I've added the word "first" to line 1.

first signs of spring . . .
the hours I've spent inside

Thursday, March 05, 2009

March 1, 2009

I turn the calendar's page
toward spring

Tuesday, March 03, 2009


I've just added a link to a new site called simply "Haiku" (click on HAIKU under "other good sites"). Primarily a registry, it includes links to over 450 haiku and haiku-related blogs, as well as to sites and blogs focusing on other interests.

Use it by all means. But I do hope you'll still drop in here from time to time.


the long sigh
of a pregnant girl
December wind
[First published in The Heron's Nest]