contemporary haiku since 1994
November 13, 2025 § Leave a comment
•
still enough
to hear
the crow’s wing
the cat’s white
feet through
the corrugated plastic
November 12, 2025 § Leave a comment
pushing grains of salt
up from the gap in
the table an ant
she says
you reek of
superstitions
the chips
from the blue plate
have reached the sea
fly on the desk
looks like the one
at home
first signs
you’re a
conifer
November 11, 2025 § 2 Comments
in the shower
I smell like
the soup you made
November 11, 2025 § Leave a comment
I waited
thirty years
to use that word
one of your
eyes likes
me better
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