HAIKU IN ENGLISH: THE FIRST HUNDRED YEARS ant ant ant ant ant

January 30, 2014 § 1 Comment

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the cloud-edge on the horizon deer head in the freezer

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Jon Cone

Issue Six

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where the lines end and the absence begins an architecture or so

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Chris Gordon

Issue Five

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clear winter sky over the radio the first bombs

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Dorothy Howard

Issue Four

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whittling

till there’s nothing left

of the light

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Jim Kacian

Issue Five

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your hair drawn back

the sharp taste of radishes

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M. Kettner

Issue Five

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meadow speaking the language she dreams in

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Scott Metz

Issue Nine

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ant ant ant ant ant four

July 15, 2013 § Leave a comment

“In many ways the culmination of my original vision for the journal.”

ai li, Ronald Baatz, Peter Bakowski, Michael Basinski, Guy R. Beining, Ed Bennett, John M. Bennett, Ernest J. Berry, Diane Borsenik, Jason Sanford Brown, Tom Clausen, MTC Cronin, Bill DiMichele, A. di Michele, Dennis H. Dutton, John Elsberg, Crag Hill, Gary Hotham, Dorothy Howard, Jim Kacian, W. B. Keckler, M. Kettner, Jim Leftwitch, Shawn Lindsay, Paul Long, paul m., Robert Major, Errol Miller, Sheila E. Murphy, Dan Nielsen, Jim Normington, Simon Perchik, Anthony J. Pupello, George Ralph, William Ramsey, Dennis Saleh, Hiroaki Sato, Sam Savage, Caroline Steinhoff Smith, John Stevenson, Michael Dylan Welch, Arizona Zipper.

http://en.calameo.com/read/00251154550cdc71c99db

VARIOUS ARTISTS ant ant ant ant ant four

January 15, 2012 § 1 Comment

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pagan tulip crescent often spot remove meadow

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Michael Basinski

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racked up in splendid blood

bones of the ryeman

in the thin wings of grass

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Guy R. Beining

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sigh   lens   hair

(retensions)

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hand around you faceless

daughter blue pond and

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heaving

other clouds

“my name”

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John M. Bennett

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molding oranges

numbers radiate from

a digital clock

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Jason Sanford Brown

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One little nail-hole

treasured as the gateway

its mystery breath

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Bill DiMichele

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waiting for her to stick her tongue in my mouth an autumn sunburn

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Chris Gordon

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most of beauty is iceburgs

the topic crowds with horror

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late patterns of thought

media pretends

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Crag Hill

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clear winter day

over the radio

the first bombs

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Dorothy Howard

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3am

divining god’s law

from raw onions

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gazing on

her sleeping back

sounds of rain

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Jim Kacian

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cattle sleeping

moonlight on their backs

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a cold scream

narrowly occult

ridge draped in dusk

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M. Kettner

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spitting lit matches

into gasolined brambles

shave till opening

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Buspar plural plural

speaking Farsi backwards

on the phone

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Xie Kitchin

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long-lit afternoon

a cut

unhealed

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ai li

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road salt

tumbling in the vacuum of

an ambulance

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Shawn Lindsay

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forked lightening

out over the ocean

her warm fingers

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evening breeze

a white moth floating

in the dishwater

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pear slice falling

to the kitchen floor

pale moonlight

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Paul M.

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dark

the TV ignores

everything

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John Stevenson

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on the drive

there and back

a pine needle in the wiper

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French graffiti   I drop a coin in the phone booth

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overdue   my dead neighbor’s library book

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Michael Dylan Welch

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CHRIS GORDON raw nervz haiku

April 27, 2011 § Leave a comment

Misprint

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in the headlights new slats on the fence your mole occluded

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covering the freeway a truck load of pumpkins magpie is a crow

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after plucking hairs from my ear the tea tastes different

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sweat from the questionable meat the monster saves the day

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apparently she decided against underwear the figs gone bad

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an unfamiliar taste to your finger what happens to the crickets

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the next day you remember Buzz Aldrin the pool closed for repairs

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in the shower I make the water hotter and notice the fly

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slow becomes owls wind a mystery with zippers

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she’s kicked me out at the fountain they discuss local politics

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after we’ve met my wife introduces us

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on a seat at the bus station torn panties some old pills

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I don’t feel the fly on my thumb sequel dubbed in English

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a misprint in her body language tear open the air to black seeds

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pale skin where the strap rested dishes drift in the sink

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trying to avoid you I run into you even more

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newspaper machines stuffed with clothing the parking lot a pond

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it hovers then flies back at me what I spit out

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objects fall the definition of silver wavers slightly

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twisting in a swing she talks on the phone about her butt

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Raw Nervz Haiku X:2

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