contemporary haiku since 1994
February 7, 2026 § Leave a comment
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funeral
the shovel
a tiller
February 7, 2026 § 1 Comment
in the same boat
the dog the cat
and the chicken
circle of shopping
carts smoke from
the center
she calls the stars
seeds left by
the fog
where the mist
settles
frogs
three spoons
each making
its own stain
that’s not stardust
those are
stars
inside the blue
light the question
you haven’t answered
February 6, 2026 § Leave a comment
strawberry tops
on the counter
mythologies of pain
she says no
one else has ever
made her tea
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