Tuesday, January 31, 2012

haiku retrospective cccix

lavender shampoo
a faint whiff of sewage gas
from the drain

28 July 2003

slow river
the trees' reflections sway
across the sand

7 August 2003

hiroshima day
the first meteors fall

7 August 2003

Monday, January 30, 2012

haiku retrospective cccviii

a mother's tears
the desert alive
with ocatillo

25 July 2003

the pelvic bones open
to admit the head

28 July 2003

summer siesta
i put my laptop to sleep
so it won't burn my knees

28 July 2003

Sunday, January 29, 2012

haiku retrospective cccxii

ceaseless heat
the squirrel's hands keep turning
the corncob

23 July 2003

drooping lily
the maples the same shade of green
as the redwoods

23 July 2003

almost forgotten --
last winter's rain

24 July 2003

Saturday, January 28, 2012

haiku retrospective cccxi

scalding blacktop
orange and yellow blooms
on the prickly pear

22 July 2003

hot and humid
the tea kettle dribbles
onto the counter

22 July 2003

plastic lilies
papa's last mistake
chiseled in marble

22 July 2003

Friday, January 27, 2012

haiku retrospective cccx

summer moon
the sprinkler makes its way
across the lawn

14 July 2003

beach rollercoaster
brake lights
all the way to the summit

16 July 2003

barbecued spare ribs
prickly pear blossoms
in the sunshine

16 July 2003

Thursday, January 26, 2012

haiku retrospective cccix

hot afternoon
the pebbled coolness
of dried beans

6 July 2003

fourth of july traffic --
my emergency chocolate melts
all over my purse

6 July 2003

hard bench
no haiku admitted
to the courtroom

9 July 2003

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

haiku retrospective cccviii

faded roses
dirty white bubbles
below the drain pipe

swaying treetops
flowered sheets billow
on the clothesline

hot deck underfoot
damp cotton gauze clings
to my arm

sun-bleached drying rack
a row of tie-dyed panties
above the socks

still evening
a stack of folded slacks
on the picnic table

mosquitoes rise
the damp scent of clean clothes
on the line

2 July 2003

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

haiku retrospective cccvii

gray cubicle
sparrow song
from the computer speaker

11 June 2003

sweet corn by the bushel --
the market umbrella
sails away

24 June 2003

kestrel in flight
poison hemlock chokes
the fire road

24 June 2003

Monday, January 23, 2012

haiku retrospective cccvi

stacking bricks
a hummingbird over
the rose campion

loaded wheelbarrow
rust-gold lichen
on the concrete

the clink of bricks
star jasmine scents
the evening air

ragged breath
brushing forget-me-not seeds
off my pants

swelling rose hips
the wheelbarrow tire
loses more air

a sip of tea
empty dye bottles stacked
on the window sill

9 June 2003

Sunday, January 22, 2012

haiku retrospective cccv

a tall glass of iced tea --
forget-me-not seeds stuck
to my pants legs

8 June 2003

trust me on this one --
you can vacuum sock stickers off your sandals
but not your pants

8 June 2003

Saturday, January 21, 2012

haiku retrospective ccciv

fading lupine
a fog bank rolls
over the ridge

3 June 2003

“you may kiss the bride”
tears run
through her mascara

5 June 2003

empty to-do list
new reeds
at the pond

7 June 2003

Friday, January 20, 2012

haiku retrospective ccciii

towhee's call --
the scent of water
on potting soil

2 June 2003

church picnic --
the volleyball bounces
all the way to the freeway

2 June 2003

gray cubical
sparrow song
from the computer speaker

3 June 2003

Thursday, January 19, 2012

haiku retrospective cccii

bees in the bottlebrush
a bird feeder on its side
in the grass

27 May 2003

jasmine flowers
the high-pitched whine
of a mosquito

27 May 2003

rooftop picnic
each palm leaf sharp
against the blue sky

2 June 2003

Wednesday, January 18, 2012

haiku retrospective ccci

powder room
her breath extends
as she loosens her stays

14 May 2003

his dark eyes
all of the questions
i'm afraid to ask

23 May 2003

civil war re-enactment
a bare-chested young man sobs
into the grass

23 May 2003

Tuesday, January 17, 2012

haiku retrospective ccc

barbed wire
against the sky

14 May 2003

morning fog
my limbs sink back
into the mattress

14 May 2003

tumbledown fence
sunlight streams
through the honey locusts

14 May 2003

Monday, January 16, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxcix

til death do us part --
mating soldier beetles cling
to the window screen

10 May 2003

leaf litter --
mating soldier beetles
on the window screen

10 May 2003

cracked cereal bowl
an old bath towel
under the new dishwasher

12 May 2003

Sunday, January 15, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxcviii

evening prayer
hailstones rattle
the windows

8 May 2003

fading light
wild oats nod
above the lupine

8 May 2003

piano recital
a steady drone
from the coke machine

9 May 2003

Saturday, January 14, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxcvii

Back when the Giants were at foggy, windy Candlestick Park, they awarded the Croix de Candlestick to those fans intrepid enough to sit out an extra inning game. I loved Candlestick, even on foggy, windy nights. I loved the way the flag in left field flapped in a different direction from the flag in right field. I loved the way the fog swirled across the field.

fingers numb with cold
he pins another medal
to her hat
8 May 2003

Friday, January 13, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxcvi

When I was a child, I thought that my friend's father genuflected to apologize for being late for church. When I was grown, a Catholic friend of mine said, “No, he was apologizing for being born.”

hardwood pews
latin prayers mingle
with the incense

I'm older than Vatican II.

My stepmother was a nun for 17 years. She left the church because she was disciplined for working with the Black Panthers to provide hot breakfast for Oakland ghetto children. A retired first grade teacher, she now works as a consultant to help schools teach English to the many California pupils who speak another language at home.

guns and rosaries
scrambled eggs bring a smile
to the child's face

1 May 2003

Thursday, January 12, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxcv

virus checker
a handkerchief
fresh from the laundry

30 April 2003

all the same answers
hand-me-down math book

30 April 2003

storm's end
baby bluejays start

3 May 2003

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxciv

gnats in flight --
the bearded iris sways
in the breeze

30 April 2003

leaf rake --
a pile of camellia petals
on the blacktop

30 April 2003

morning paper
washing down leftover french fries
with orange juice

30 April 2003

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxciii

empire waist
bombs and blood spilled
on the desert sand

23 April 2003

weathered park bench
the old lady knits
in the rain

25 April 2003

wind chimes
the eyes of the child i was
still in my face

28 April 2003

Monday, January 9, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxcii

makeshift umbrella
rain drums on the leaves
of the maple

21 April 2003

climbing blackberry --
a cat with white paws shits
in the sandbox

21 April 2003

childhood memories
peacock feathers
in blue glass

22 April 2003

Sunday, January 8, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxci

drifting oak pollen
dark-eyed juncos flit
from branch to branch

17 April 2003

iris in bud --
a small boy balances
on the fence rail

17 April 2003

home again
on the floor

19 April 2003

Saturday, January 7, 2012

haiku retrospective ccxc

worn wiper blade
a forest skyline
in the rear view mirror

14 April 2003

ethnic cleansing
the colored woman scrubs
the white toilet

16 April 2003

zayante creek
horsetails choke
the roadside ditch

17 April 2003

Friday, January 6, 2012

haiku retrospective cclxxxix

first light --
cherry leaves heavy
with rain

12 April 2003

well-thumbed book
a memory of cottage cheese
on page 73

14 April 2003

hauling advertisement --
a dog's tongue hangs out
of the bike trailer

14 April 2003

Thursday, January 5, 2012

haiku retrospective cclxxxviii

first drops of rain --
a backhoe parked
among the hyacinths

10 April 2003

clematis buds
the cracked lights
of the old trailer

10 April 2003

salvia 4-pak
the dreamy look
in the checker's eyes

10 April 2003