Matrix Haiku

First published in Matrix #107, Fall 2017, pages 28–29. All poems but one originally written in 2010 and 2011, with the exception (“distant dinner bell”) written in 2014.


the waterfall’s spray
wets my sunglasses—
vacation alone


                                                                                                circles of rain—
                                                                                                tied-up yachts
                                                                                                chumming together


the mayor’s speech . . .
flecks of rust
beneath the anchor


                                                                                                long day—
                                                                                                the shadows of salt grains
                                                                                                on the café table


pea-soup fog—
your lighthouse keychain
lighting the roadmap


                                                                                                trackless shore—
                                                                                                the pock of a shell
                                                                                                dropped onto stones


out of breath . . .
a stunted pine
at the trail’s summit


                                                                                                low tide—
                                                                                                stones still wet
                                                                                                for discovery


spring breeze—
the tree’s penumbra
a lighter green


                                                                                                still night . . .
                                                                                                the sound of plums
                                                                                                beginning to bloom


distant dinner bell—
one more time
through the labyrinth


                                                                                                you gave me this ring
                                                                                                on a day like today . . .
                                                                                                snow about to fall


forest clearing—
swaying leaves bring to mind
a guitar solo