giant holly leans

giant holly leans
away from the giant oak --
the smell of rain

gas station bathroom

gas station bathroom --
on the sink, unmoving
a stinkbug

winter cleaning

winter cleaning --
the bluebirds' empty nest
comes out in one piece

Thanksgiving eve

Thanksgiving eve --
the empty Metro train streaks
across the night sky

Another Lost Shark

I don't have a new haiku for today, but wanted to share a link and get back into the routine of posting daily.

Over at his blog Another Lost Shark, Australian haiku poet Graham Nunn is chronicling his newborn son's first 30 days of life with a poem a day. They've been stunning so far. Here is his poem for Day 7:


what happens between
heartbeats is neither life
nor death, but something
ships do, darker and deeper
than the ocean: that instant
where prow hangs and
the world could go
with the next swell
or under

-- Graham Nunn


A wonderful project and poet.

warm November night

I had to take a hiatus there for a couple of days as things got busy in other arenas. Mostly my work as blue bluer books -- publishing artists' books and making handmade journals.

Since you're here at a haiku blog you may be interested in my most recent artist's book, stitching speechless, which is based on a series of haiku by Stephen Addiss. You can learn more here and here.

But now we're getting back on track here at no more moon poems:


warm November night --
the crickets
give thanks

on the window

on the window
each water drop
shines white with the snow


This one feels very clunky for now, but I at least wanted to get the image down -- of water drops on the window reflecting and magnifying the brilliant white of snow on the ground outside. Not that there's snow outside here in NC right now -- this one is partially inspired by another photo by Bing Wright (as yesterday's was).

We'll see if this one comes up for re-working later...

Haiku from photographs V

powerlines
against the gray sky
not a single bird


Today's haiku is inspired by a photograph from the book Everyday Pictures, a collection of work by contemporary American photographer Bing Wright. You can see the specific photo this poem is based on here.

I really don't know anything about Wright except that the book's title jumped out at me from the library shelf as one that might be conducive to inspiring haiku. I look forward to checking out the book and the artist's work more deeply.

playing wolf

playing wolf
in the arboretum
the husky wades upstream

wedding band

wedding band
crusted with dirt
from our new garden bed

morning coffee

morning coffee --
the nagging dissonance
of leafblowers

gallery talk

Variations on an image from tonight. Which one(s) work(s) best, if any?



gallery talk --
a man watching through the glass
blends into the night



gallery talk --
the panhandler outside
watches intently



gallery talk --
the audience watches
a homeless man outside



shielding his eyes
the homeless man peers in
at the artist's talk



gallery talk --
the panhandler outside
shields his eyes to watch



One of the key questions for me is, is it obvious enough what the phrase 'gallery talk' means? Is it clear that an artist or a curator is giving a public talk inside the gallery about the work on display there? Or is there a better way to set the scene? So much to consider for such a short burst of words...

feeling stuck

feeling stuck
I check the forecast
for Timbuktu

All Saints' Day

All Saints' Day --
each student takes a turn
yawning