candlestick park --
the witch wind blew the giants
downtown
25 April 2000
noon feeding flight
the finches gather more seed
their feathers unpreened
25 April 2000
spotlight ~
filtered sunlight
on the redwood suckers
26 April 2000
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
haiku retrospective xciii -- crow come follow me home
Some haiku just won't let you go.
Many years ago, I saw a very ominous blackbird hunkered down on a wrought iron fence. It had just been raining hard, but was now sunny, and the fence was covered with dazzling backlit raindrops.
I tried several times to make a go of this haiku, but it just wouldn't do it. Somehow, the image was too full, too intense to be distilled down into the form of haiku. People suggested to me that there was more there than a haiku could hold, and so I reluctantly let it go.
It held on, however, and this version whispered itself to me last night:
hunchbacked crow --
sunlit raindrops hang
from the wrought iron fence
Here, for comparison, are the earlier attempts:
backlit raindrops
on the black iron fence
blackbird fluffs her feathers
13 April 2000
pearly raindrops
on the wrought iron fence
a blackbird fluffs her feathers
14 April 2000
raindrops on the fence
a blackbird hunches
feathers fluffed
18 April 2000
Many years ago, I saw a very ominous blackbird hunkered down on a wrought iron fence. It had just been raining hard, but was now sunny, and the fence was covered with dazzling backlit raindrops.
I tried several times to make a go of this haiku, but it just wouldn't do it. Somehow, the image was too full, too intense to be distilled down into the form of haiku. People suggested to me that there was more there than a haiku could hold, and so I reluctantly let it go.
It held on, however, and this version whispered itself to me last night:
hunchbacked crow --
sunlit raindrops hang
from the wrought iron fence
Here, for comparison, are the earlier attempts:
backlit raindrops
on the black iron fence
blackbird fluffs her feathers
13 April 2000
pearly raindrops
on the wrought iron fence
a blackbird fluffs her feathers
14 April 2000
raindrops on the fence
a blackbird hunches
feathers fluffed
18 April 2000
haiku retrospective xcii
blinking back tears
sunlit raindrops on
the swaying redwood frond
17 April 2000
wind-blown sunshine ~
a spring breeze rearranges shadows
in the oak tree
17 April 2000
haiku ~
attentive to this moment
i smile
20 April 2000
sunlit raindrops on
the swaying redwood frond
17 April 2000
wind-blown sunshine ~
a spring breeze rearranges shadows
in the oak tree
17 April 2000
haiku ~
attentive to this moment
i smile
20 April 2000
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
haiku retrospective xci
spring shower
his towel slides down
to his hip
14 April 2000
second nature ~
avoiding the potholes
that were fixed yesterday
15 April 2000
spring has sprung ~
the old armchair
sagging
15 April 2000
his towel slides down
to his hip
14 April 2000
second nature ~
avoiding the potholes
that were fixed yesterday
15 April 2000
spring has sprung ~
the old armchair
sagging
15 April 2000
Monday, March 28, 2011
haiku retrospective xc
cloudburst ~
an apple tree rains petals
on the asphalt
tree burst ~
raindrops knock the petals
off the apple tree
13 April 2000
an apple tree rains petals
on the asphalt
tree burst ~
raindrops knock the petals
off the apple tree
13 April 2000
Sunday, March 27, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxxix
blustery spring day ~
the children's quarrels
lost among the gusts
10 April 2000
raindrops on the pine needles
three swallows flutter by
13 April 2000
backlit raindrops
on the black iron fence
blackbird fluffs her feathers
13 April 2000
the children's quarrels
lost among the gusts
10 April 2000
raindrops on the pine needles
three swallows flutter by
13 April 2000
backlit raindrops
on the black iron fence
blackbird fluffs her feathers
13 April 2000
Saturday, March 26, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxxviii
splashes of cream ~
dogwood in bloom
along the bend in the highway
9 April 2000
Pacific dogwood (Cornus nuttallii) has large cream-colored bracts. It's not pink.
scurrying mouse
the barn door squeaks
10 April 2000
crunching almonds ~
biting through the veined husk
to get to the meat
10 April 2000
dogwood in bloom
along the bend in the highway
9 April 2000
Pacific dogwood (Cornus nuttallii) has large cream-colored bracts. It's not pink.
scurrying mouse
the barn door squeaks
10 April 2000
crunching almonds ~
biting through the veined husk
to get to the meat
10 April 2000
Friday, March 25, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxxvii
gray whisk ~
the bottlebrush tail
of a fat squirrel
5 April 2000
morning tai chi ~
a breeze stirs the spent petals
of the cherry blossoms
6 April 2000
april shower -
the toddler looks
pleased with himself
8 April 2000
the bottlebrush tail
of a fat squirrel
5 April 2000
morning tai chi ~
a breeze stirs the spent petals
of the cherry blossoms
6 April 2000
april shower -
the toddler looks
pleased with himself
8 April 2000
Thursday, March 24, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxxvi
These haiku were written as commentary on social situations arising among haijin (haiku poets) themselves. Haiku has a long (although perhaps not proud) tradition of using haiku to make social points. Reading this type of haiku is like hearing one sentence in a heated argument.
“Whoa, Basho sure had his knickers in a knot about something.”
These haiku are long beyond their pull date, but this retrospective is lining them up anyway.
in the folds of a peach pit ~
juicy discovery
3 April 2000
hairy crab oolong ~
my breath ripples the liquid
in the tilted cup
4 April 2000
an ass brays in the street ~
the brush in his hand
finishes the stroke
5 April 2000
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxxv
equinox sunset ~
a pastel wash on the face
of the rising moon
dyeing easter eggs ~
moon rabbit scatters beauty
on the greening earth
yellow violets ~
the bright hair of the children
playing in the sun
21 March 2000
a pastel wash on the face
of the rising moon
dyeing easter eggs ~
moon rabbit scatters beauty
on the greening earth
yellow violets ~
the bright hair of the children
playing in the sun
21 March 2000
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxxiv
square of sunshine ~
rocks from the train tracks
on the wood floor
18 March 2000
unruffled by the breeze
new maple leaves stand stiffly
red fans folded
19 March 2000
spring sunshine ~
the pink glow of the flesh
where toes touch
20 March 2000
rocks from the train tracks
on the wood floor
18 March 2000
unruffled by the breeze
new maple leaves stand stiffly
red fans folded
19 March 2000
spring sunshine ~
the pink glow of the flesh
where toes touch
20 March 2000
Monday, March 21, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxxiii
drained duck pond ~
county workers hose off the duck poop
drained duck pond ~
a lone koi flops in a puddle
drained duck pond ~
coots gabble on new grass
drained duck pond ~
the rich smell of algae
drained duck pond ~
a bucket of duck eggs
drained duck pond ~
a bright-haired boy holds a red umbrella
drained duck pond ~
the river heron squats under a tree
drained duck pond ~
river ducks nest in the reeds
10 March 2000
county workers hose off the duck poop
drained duck pond ~
a lone koi flops in a puddle
drained duck pond ~
coots gabble on new grass
drained duck pond ~
the rich smell of algae
drained duck pond ~
a bucket of duck eggs
drained duck pond ~
a bright-haired boy holds a red umbrella
drained duck pond ~
the river heron squats under a tree
drained duck pond ~
river ducks nest in the reeds
10 March 2000
Sunday, March 20, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxxii
moonbeams on his cheeks
his lips make sucking motions
even in his sleep
24 February 2000
beach picnic ~
why do you think they call them
sandwiches?
3 March 2000
rusty pipe ~
a strand of water twists
onto mossy stones
3 March 2000
his lips make sucking motions
even in his sleep
24 February 2000
beach picnic ~
why do you think they call them
sandwiches?
3 March 2000
rusty pipe ~
a strand of water twists
onto mossy stones
3 March 2000
haiku retrospective lxxxi
coming home
lego scattered
on the living room carpet
coming home
piles of laundry on the floor
light and dark
coming home
the children gather
to see what you've brought
2 March 2000
lego scattered
on the living room carpet
coming home
piles of laundry on the floor
light and dark
coming home
the children gather
to see what you've brought
2 March 2000
Saturday, March 19, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxx
departed lover
tossing his shaving gear
in the trash
departed lover
feeling ghostly caresses
in the shower
departed lover
seeing your smile
on our son's face
16 February 2000
tossing his shaving gear
in the trash
departed lover
feeling ghostly caresses
in the shower
departed lover
seeing your smile
on our son's face
16 February 2000
haiku retrospective lxxix
rainy day ~
precipitation
in the baby's nappy.
13 February 2000
twilight ~
darkness fills the hollows
in the light
18 February 2000
cumulus towers ~
a stiff breeze blows cloud banners
from the turrets' heights
18 February 2000
precipitation
in the baby's nappy.
13 February 2000
twilight ~
darkness fills the hollows
in the light
18 February 2000
cumulus towers ~
a stiff breeze blows cloud banners
from the turrets' heights
18 February 2000
Friday, March 18, 2011
haibun: Today We are All Japanese
As a Californian, I have often told Americans and Europeans that we feel more deeply connected to Asia than to Europe. We face west, we share an ocean, and a great many Californians trace their heritage to Asia. So much of what makes California what it is came originally from Asia, and a great deal of what makes my California comes from Japan. The tsunami touched Santa Cruz, another link in the pattern that connects California to Japan. It feels so close, that country on the other side of our ocean.
hakone garden
spring rain falls lightly
on the maples
A woman at dance class greets me and I ask how her family is doing. Tears fill her eyes as she tells me that they are all safe in Tokyo.
opening dance
tani takes her place
next to mine
The American media puts its own surreal stamp on things.
tsunami spin:
bay area foodies face
a sushi shortage
Outside it is raining, a soft steady rain that has come in from the Pacific. A week ago, some of this air was over northern Japan. I think of my father, gone now, who grew up in Japan and introduced me to samurai films, the correct way to use chopsticks, and a certain esthetic that remained from his boyhood. Towards the end of his life, my father would become unmoored in time and space.
cancer ward
he thinks he's a boy again
in japan
When he learned of the earthquake, George Takei said “Today, we are all Japanese.” As a child, George lived in the WWII Japanese-American relocation camps.
Watching the moving footage of the moment of silence in Japan, I cannot help but think, as I have thought often in the past week, that the world would be better if we were all Japanese.
silence ~
all the prayers that don't fit into words
hakone garden
spring rain falls lightly
on the maples
A woman at dance class greets me and I ask how her family is doing. Tears fill her eyes as she tells me that they are all safe in Tokyo.
opening dance
tani takes her place
next to mine
The American media puts its own surreal stamp on things.
tsunami spin:
bay area foodies face
a sushi shortage
Outside it is raining, a soft steady rain that has come in from the Pacific. A week ago, some of this air was over northern Japan. I think of my father, gone now, who grew up in Japan and introduced me to samurai films, the correct way to use chopsticks, and a certain esthetic that remained from his boyhood. Towards the end of his life, my father would become unmoored in time and space.
cancer ward
he thinks he's a boy again
in japan
When he learned of the earthquake, George Takei said “Today, we are all Japanese.” As a child, George lived in the WWII Japanese-American relocation camps.
Watching the moving footage of the moment of silence in Japan, I cannot help but think, as I have thought often in the past week, that the world would be better if we were all Japanese.
silence ~
all the prayers that don't fit into words
haiku retrospective lxxiii
satin pillow
against my lips
the baby's cheek
7 February 2000
silence ~
all the thoughts that don't fit into words
7 February 2000
i can't remember
the name of that flower ~
forget-me-not
8 February 2000
against my lips
the baby's cheek
7 February 2000
silence ~
all the thoughts that don't fit into words
7 February 2000
i can't remember
the name of that flower ~
forget-me-not
8 February 2000
Thursday, March 17, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxii
cumulonimbus ~
gusts blow the redwood needles
backwards
3 February 2000
down the window
raindrops blur the raindrops outside
5 February 2000
cloud-watching ~
a view of the waves
from the bottom of the ocean
6 February 2000
gusts blow the redwood needles
backwards
3 February 2000
down the window
raindrops blur the raindrops outside
5 February 2000
cloud-watching ~
a view of the waves
from the bottom of the ocean
6 February 2000
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
haiku retrospective lxxi
I have a heavy heart now every day I come to post haiku. Should I continue my little retrospective when the Japanese people are suffering so deeply?
But perhaps it is one little thing I can do to honor the Japanese people in this difficult time, to share my appreciation for this Japanese art form.
Right now, each haiku is a prayer for Japan.
eating brownies
hot from the pan
27 January 2000
gray scale ~
the distant treetops
against the clouds
31 January 2000
scrubbed sky-
swallows swoop above the greening hills
1 February 2000
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
haiku retrospective lxx
The Japanese people, especially my haiku friends, are in my thoughts and prayers constantly.
swirling clouds
seen through the depths
the blue sky
21 January 2000
bare feet ~
the cold concrete of the laundry room floor
27 January 2000
clear winter day
painted sunflowers on a blue silk scarf
27 January 2000
swirling clouds
seen through the depths
the blue sky
21 January 2000
bare feet ~
the cold concrete of the laundry room floor
27 January 2000
clear winter day
painted sunflowers on a blue silk scarf
27 January 2000
Monday, March 14, 2011
haiku retrospective lxix
rain streaks ~
a child in underpants with an umbrella
19 January 2000
rainy afternoon ~
clusters of maple seeds
droop their brown wings
19 January 2000
total eclipse
blocking the earth-lit moon
the ruddy clouds
21 January 2000
a child in underpants with an umbrella
19 January 2000
rainy afternoon ~
clusters of maple seeds
droop their brown wings
19 January 2000
total eclipse
blocking the earth-lit moon
the ruddy clouds
21 January 2000
Sunday, March 13, 2011
haiku retrospective lxviii
threatened miscarriage ~
spring unfurls the petals of
the first narcissus
13 January 2000
tuppence a bag ~
one starling snatches the first crumb
14 January 2000
cheek to cheek
the adorable baby
pulls my hair
14 January 2000
spring unfurls the petals of
the first narcissus
13 January 2000
tuppence a bag ~
one starling snatches the first crumb
14 January 2000
cheek to cheek
the adorable baby
pulls my hair
14 January 2000
Saturday, March 12, 2011
haiku retrospective lxvii
fever-ridden dreams:
ringing telephone tolls friends' deaths
promise of spring:
bold narcissi do more than whisper
ringing telephone tolls friends' deaths
promise of spring:
bold narcissi do more than whisper
7 January 2000
haiku retrospective lxvi
cloudy sky
billows of woodsmoke
drift sideways
4 January 2000
making acorn ~
brown hands on the stone
pounding, pounding
8 January 2000
dusk
woodsmoke rises through the falling rain
10 January 2000
billows of woodsmoke
drift sideways
4 January 2000
making acorn ~
brown hands on the stone
pounding, pounding
8 January 2000
dusk
woodsmoke rises through the falling rain
10 January 2000
Friday, March 11, 2011
haiku retrospective lxv
almost empty
pouring the last cup
the teapot gurgles
3 January 2000
aviary --
the landing finch
rings a bell
4 January 2000
whirring fan
trickling fountain
humming child
4 January 2000
pouring the last cup
the teapot gurgles
3 January 2000
aviary --
the landing finch
rings a bell
4 January 2000
whirring fan
trickling fountain
humming child
4 January 2000
Thursday, March 10, 2011
haiku retrospective lxiv
first night ~
tossing a dollar in the old man's hat.
cresting new year's wave
breaks over the hushed planet ~
we wait and watch
australia, japan, europe ~
world war one echo
"the thin gray line, does it hold?"
all quiet
as midnight rolls over the atlantic
in flanders,
do the poppies still bloom red?
31 December 1999
tossing a dollar in the old man's hat.
cresting new year's wave
breaks over the hushed planet ~
we wait and watch
australia, japan, europe ~
world war one echo
"the thin gray line, does it hold?"
all quiet
as midnight rolls over the atlantic
in flanders,
do the poppies still bloom red?
31 December 1999
haiku retrospective lxiii
solstice flu
chills chasing the moon
through the skylight
fevered child's brow ~
the scent of slate rock
baking in the sun
flu season ~
tea so tasteless
i might as well drink hay
flu season ~
the laughing four-year-old starts coughing
cough medicine ~
the flowing fountain on the hearth
25 December 1999
chills chasing the moon
through the skylight
fevered child's brow ~
the scent of slate rock
baking in the sun
flu season ~
tea so tasteless
i might as well drink hay
flu season ~
the laughing four-year-old starts coughing
cough medicine ~
the flowing fountain on the hearth
25 December 1999
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
haiku retrospective lxii
breaking pumpkins
bounce down the hill
horse skips out of the way
tasting a pumpkin
the horse's whiskers twitch
bounce down the hill
horse skips out of the way
tasting a pumpkin
the horse's whiskers twitch
13 December 1999
haiku retrospective lxi
dusk-
finding the path in the space between treetops
10 December 1999
afternoon nap -
eyes open to
the baby's jabbering.
13 December 1999
tender and mild ~
the fingers of the ER doctor
stitching the child's hand
17 December 1999
finding the path in the space between treetops
10 December 1999
afternoon nap -
eyes open to
the baby's jabbering.
13 December 1999
tender and mild ~
the fingers of the ER doctor
stitching the child's hand
17 December 1999
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
haiku retrospective lx
no snow
puddles on the driveway
10 December 1999
at the lighting
of the town tree --
the smell of woodsmoke.
10 December 1999
mid-december
tiny mushrooms in the compost
10 December 1999
puddles on the driveway
10 December 1999
at the lighting
of the town tree --
the smell of woodsmoke.
10 December 1999
mid-december
tiny mushrooms in the compost
10 December 1999
Monday, March 7, 2011
haiku retrospective lix
raindrops on spruce needles
the running shower
fogs the window
9 December 1999
silver triangle ~
the beard of the man
driving the sports car
9 December 1999
wet starless night --
a smiling moon shines
on her umbrella.
10 December 1999
the running shower
fogs the window
9 December 1999
silver triangle ~
the beard of the man
driving the sports car
9 December 1999
wet starless night --
a smiling moon shines
on her umbrella.
10 December 1999
Sunday, March 6, 2011
haiku retrospective lviii
unsaid
the words between the tears
unshed
unshed
the tears between the words
unsaid
9 December 1999
the words between the tears
unshed
unshed
the tears between the words
unsaid
9 December 1999
haiku retrospective lvii
rain drips from the eaves
fingers drum on the keyboard
heater vents rattle
9 December 1999
shooting baskets ~
fresh cast on his broken wrist
tear tracks on his face
9 December 1999
sleeping baby
tingling breasts
overflow
9 December 1999
fingers drum on the keyboard
heater vents rattle
9 December 1999
shooting baskets ~
fresh cast on his broken wrist
tear tracks on his face
9 December 1999
sleeping baby
tingling breasts
overflow
9 December 1999
Saturday, March 5, 2011
haiku retrospective lvi
november's end ~
a straggling storm cloud
steams over the sun
30 November 1999
lost:
one woman's writing style
one voice in the wind
30 November 1999
the tall man's house -
boxes of lead soldiers
and handmade sandals
7 December 1999
a straggling storm cloud
steams over the sun
30 November 1999
lost:
one woman's writing style
one voice in the wind
30 November 1999
the tall man's house -
boxes of lead soldiers
and handmade sandals
7 December 1999
Friday, March 4, 2011
haiku retrospective lv
junction park tai chi
weight fifty left, fifty right,
a little more on
the heel than the ball
of the foot. relax your knees.
stationary hips.
move from the belly.
gently rotate from side to
side, arms following.
now pung your left arm,
a little more, pung like hell.
drop your shoulders now.
get your head on straight.
tongue on the roof of your mouth,
teeth lightly touching.
open up your chest.
you can't get your head on straight
if your heart is closed.
hold your hand like this,
this extended, those relaxed.
keep motion constant.
now... remember to
RELAX
YOUR
EARLOBES.
Aughhhhh!
21 November 1999
weight fifty left, fifty right,
a little more on
the heel than the ball
of the foot. relax your knees.
stationary hips.
move from the belly.
gently rotate from side to
side, arms following.
now pung your left arm,
a little more, pung like hell.
drop your shoulders now.
get your head on straight.
tongue on the roof of your mouth,
teeth lightly touching.
open up your chest.
you can't get your head on straight
if your heart is closed.
hold your hand like this,
this extended, those relaxed.
keep motion constant.
now... remember to
RELAX
YOUR
EARLOBES.
Aughhhhh!
21 November 1999
haiku retrospective liv
thin ice
creaking underfoot
winter sunshine
20 November 1999
sweeping out cobwebs
a cold draught
wind after rain
22 November 1999
overhead
winter-white sky
green maple leaves
26 November 1999
creaking underfoot
winter sunshine
20 November 1999
sweeping out cobwebs
a cold draught
wind after rain
22 November 1999
overhead
winter-white sky
green maple leaves
26 November 1999
Thursday, March 3, 2011
haiku retrospective liii
the room's reflection
hides the night --
a dark window
17 November 1999
grass shoots
poke holes in the sunshine --
the scent of rain
18 November 1999
corn and oysters
on the harvest table
family elbows
18 November 1999
hides the night --
a dark window
17 November 1999
grass shoots
poke holes in the sunshine --
the scent of rain
18 November 1999
corn and oysters
on the harvest table
family elbows
18 November 1999
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
haiku retrospective lii
winter swarm:
blackbirds wheel over
berry fields
9 November 1999
the ocean
unchanging, ever-changing
you and me
15 November 1999
five days of rain-
clothes on the drying rack
damp to the touch.
17 November 1999
blackbirds wheel over
berry fields
9 November 1999
the ocean
unchanging, ever-changing
you and me
15 November 1999
five days of rain-
clothes on the drying rack
damp to the touch.
17 November 1999
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
haiku retrospective li
fat raindrops
ripples on the water
huddling koi
7 November 1999
redwood needles
trickling to the ground
a thin rain
7 November 1999
raindrops
on the skylight
splatters
7 November 1999
ripples on the water
huddling koi
7 November 1999
redwood needles
trickling to the ground
a thin rain
7 November 1999
raindrops
on the skylight
splatters
7 November 1999
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