BILL DIMICHELE ant ant ant ant ant four

June 12, 2014 § Leave a comment


climb down the ladder

many times more ladylike

terminus of light



one little nail-hole

is treasured as the gateway

its mystery breath



fallen from the trees

and into her red mitten

the visiting moon



returns the moonlight

half-lion and half-pharaoh

mingles with the guests



heart beating so fast

and under my fingernails

acorns and oak trees



sarcophagus lid

sinks low above the treetops

wash it down with beer



Exciting New Links!

June 10, 2014 § Leave a comment

Some exciting new links you may have missed!


Bones – A new international journal of contemporary haiku:


Fay Aoyagi’s Haiga:


Haiku sent to Mars:


Haiku in Danish and English by Johannes Bjerg:


jw curry’s Industrial Sabotage:



Collaborative haiku you can contribute to with your phone:


Nebula Award-winning novels (1965-2004) summarized in haiku:





cruelty free

June 10, 2014 § Leave a comment


her face it fits inside a small beaded bag



GARY HOTHAM ant ant ant ant ant 1994-1999

June 9, 2014 § Leave a comment


on the bus tour

the darkness of the tunnel

on everyone’s face



in the desk drawer

papers that were hers

every day



the trees bend

a wind we can’t get




tall grass

in the tall grass

a while to listen



down the hall voices

the soft click

as the door shuts us in



around our feet

water on its way

to more water



the rain not holding on

to anything my father turns




home late

the darkness the stars

are in



on the rocks around us

water splashed

out of the ocean



snow flakes

no one will miss

melt in her hand



a few feet

from our feet

the ocean bottom starts



only the sound

of their car

comes back




JOHN M. BENNETT ant ant ant ant ant four

June 8, 2014 § Leave a comment


sigh    lens    hair






hand around you faceless


daughter   blue pond and





other clouds


“my name”




the dead parts of me

June 6, 2014 § 1 Comment


onion grass my son pukes in the sink


the moon who cares where it is


your feet they’re nicer than mine


bottle caps rattle among the spoons


the crow says something for the crows


asphalt heat and foreign policy


the dead parts of me pester the rest


stale crackers easy to put them back


your twat I never call it that


the cat’s meow what’s that really about


the penny not as old as it looks


the extra napkin always gets tossed


rain check nothing to do with the rain


your fingerprint a consistent prostitute


the place on you I know you can’t touch


box tops they usually tear anyways


nails one of them in my foot


sassafras people still actually say that


your panties entwined with my odd socks


toothpaste not sure what I’m supposed to think


all the knives clean I hit the lights





the station

June 5, 2014 § Leave a comment


toothless men

discuss their bicycles

there’s no last straw

MICHAEL DYLAN WELCH ant ant ant ant ant 1995-1999

June 4, 2014 § 1 Comment


autumn rain

a leaf eddies

in the stream



bouncing on the grass

the whiteness

of hailstones



high tide

beach willow leaves

mingle with kelp



on the drive

there and back

a pine needle in the wiper



french graffiti   I drop a coin in the phone booth



overdue   my dead neighbor’s library book







June 3, 2014 § Leave a comment


the nurse says there are

more hermaphrodites

than vegetarians



SHAWN LINDSAY ant ant ant ant ant 1995-1999

June 1, 2014 § Leave a comment

bit by bit the apple peel around my finger


nicked her shin sweeping up the spring water a new moon


a rolled-up fence in the hayfield you can taste the lightening


exactly how my boot treads sound crimpling snow


on the corner with walnuts in her teeth it’s raining



the spruce

matted thick with ice

my tiny fingers



still the first raindrops straight down my spine


dripping wet mulberry leaves a crow anxiously



a white flower

held in the cinder block

flooded eaves



an inkling

of the bee’s vision

purple clover



autumn insects-

her perfume suffuses

the pillow



train tracks

one leaf spinning

on the beech



placing a palm on the kitchen window the thunder’s warm



invited to feel

the stubble on her legs-

autumn rain


road salt

tumbling in the vacuum of

an ambulance



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