Mann Library Haiku

Poems from the month of May 2016, as featured poet at the Mann Library haiku page at Cornell University. My thanks to Tom Clausen for his serendipitous selections and sequencing of the following poems, all previously published.

May 1
                                              spring sun—
                                              at the top of the roller coaster
                                                        she says yes

May 2                                   tulip festival—
                                              the colours of all the cars
                                              in the parking lot

May 3                                   reading in bed
                                                      my pulse flickering
                                                      the lightly held bookmark

May 4                                   morning bird song—                                                                              +
                                              my paddle slips
                                              into its reflection

May 5                                   landing swallow—
                                              the ship’s chain
                                              dips slightly

May 6                                   spring breeze—
                                              the pull of her hand
                                              as we near the pet store

May 7                                   morning sun
                                                        a patch of frost
                                                   in the holstein’s shadow

May 8                                   mountain spring—
                                                    in my cupped hand
                                                          pine needles

May 9                                   meteor shower . . .
                                              a gentle wave
                                              wets our sandals                                                                           +

May 10                                 after-dinner mints
                                              passed around the table
                                              . . . slow-falling snow

May 11                                 fresh snow on the mat—
                                              the shape of welcome
                                              still visible

May 12                                 crackling beach fire—
                                              we hum in place of words
                                              we can’t recall

May 13                                 empty silo—
                                              spring wind pops the metal
                                              in and out

May 14                                 summer moonlight
                                                     the potter’s wheel

May 15                                 pulsing
                                              in the wiper’s blade
                                              the bee’s abdomen

May 16                                 spring cleaning—
                                              dirt in the grooves
                                              of the five iron

May 17                                 you squeeze my hand . . .
                                              how still the sky
                                              after fireworks

May 18                                 toll booth lit for Christmas—
                                              from my hand to hers
                                              warm change

May 19                                 under the umbrella
                                                     stormy face

May 20                                 taking invisible tickets
                                              at the foot of the basement stairs—
                                              child’s magic show

May 21                                           gridlock
                                                                on the freeway—
                                              the skywriting drifts

May 22                                 beach parking lot—
                                              where the car door opened
                                              a small pile of sand

May 23                                 clicking off the late movie . . .
                                                     the couch cushion

May 24                                 first cold night—
                                              the farmhouse linoleum
                                              worn at the sink

May 25                                 moving day—
                                              the coolness on my cheek
                                              after your kiss

May 26                                 deep in shadow
                                              three generations
                                              counting tree rings

May 27                                 first on the trail—
                                              the pull of a spider’s strand
                                              across my face

May 28                                 fox on the trail—
                                              your hand held up
                                              to my chest

May 29                                 my hand on your thigh . . .
                                              from the window seat
                                              the curve of the earth

May 30                                 first day of summer
                                              a postman delivers mail
                                              in a safari hat

May 31                                 from horizon to horizon the milky way

Author Bio

Michael Dylan Welch has cultivated his sense of wonder with haiku poetry since he was a teenager. His poems have appeared in hundreds of journals and anthologies in at least twenty languages. He enjoys writing essays about haiku, which have also been widely published. Michael has served the haiku community in various ways: founding, running, and helping to run organizations such as the Haiku Society of America, Haiku North America, the American Haiku Archives, National Haiku Writing Month, Haiku Northwest, and the Tanka Society of America, directing haiku retreats, publishing books and journals, and running poetry readings. Michael hopes that others, too, will catch the haiku habit. What a wonderful world!