A Haiku Handful

These eighteen poems all appeared in my 2009 trifold handout, A Haiku Handful, distributed mostly at the 2009 Haiku North America conference, held at the National Library of Canada in Ottawa in the summer of that year. Thank you to John Stevenson for first alerting me to my propensity for writing haiku about hands. These poems are also available as a PDF download on the Trifolds page.

                                                                                                spring breeze—

                                                                                                the pull of her hand

                                                                                                as we near the pet store

mountain spring—

      in my cupped hand

            pine needles

                                                                                                shooting star

                                                                                                in my hand

                                                                                                meadow heat

afternoon hike—

the pussy willows dwindling

from my handful

                                                                                                birthday picnic—

                                                                                                grandma’s throw

                                                                                                halfway to the toddler

we walk the boardwalk hand in hand

      sharing ice cream

headaches

                                                                                                beached kelp—

                                                                                                we examine each other’s

                                                                                                life lines

nude beach—

my gesture reflected

in her sunglasses

                                                                                                starting her shift

                                                                                                the blonde bartender

                                                                                                puts on a wedding ring

you squeeze my hand . . .

how still the sky

after fireworks

                                                                                                summer moonlight

                                                                                                      the potter’s wheel

                                                                                                            slows

clicking off the late movie . . .

     the couch cushion

     reinflates

                                                                                                gathering clouds—

                                                                                                the feel of the Gettysburg Address

                                                                                                etched in bronze

accumulating snow—

oven mitts

praying on the counter

                                                                                                toll booth lit for Christmas—

                                                                                                from my hand to hers

                                                                                                warm change

first cold night—

the click of your domino

as we play by the fire

                                                                                                Christmas Eve—

                                                                                                bits of a price sticker

                                                                                                stuck to my finger

dense fog—

I write your name

on the airport window

These poems have appeared in the following journals and anthologies: Basho Festival Anthology (Japan, 2004), Blithe Spirit (England), Bulgarian Haiku Anthology (Bulgaria, 2003), Carpe Diem: Canadian Anthology of Haiku (Ottawa, Ontario: Les Éditions David; Nepean, Ontario: Borealis Press, 2008), Dogwood Blossoms, Fan Magazine, For a Moment (Pointe Claire, Quebec: King’s Road Press, 2009), Frogpond, Geppo, Global Haiku: Twenty-five Poets Worldwide (Cullercoats, North Shields, U.K.: Iron Press; Oakville, Ontario: Mosaic Press, 2000), The Haiku Anthology (New York: W. W. Norton, 1999), Haiku: A Poet’s Guide (Lincoln, Illinois: Modern Haiku Press, 2003), Haiku Canada Newsletter (Canada), Haiku for Lovers (London: MQ Publications, 2002), Haiku Headlines, Haikü sans frontiers: Une anthologie mondiale (Ottawa: Les Éditions David, 1998), Heron’s Nest, IDG World Update, Illinois News, Inside the Mirror: 2005 Red Moon Anthology (Winchester, Virginia: Red Moon Press, 2006), Into Snow: 2001 Herb Barrett Award Anthology (Hamilton, Ontario: Hamilton Haiku Press, forthcoming), Midwest Haiku Anthology (Decatur, Illinois: Brooks Books, 1992), Mie Times (Japan), Mirrors, Modern Haiku, Moonset, Open Window (Brooks Books, online, 2000), Pebbles, Pontoon, Presence (England), San Francisco Bay Guardian, Snapshots (England), South by Southeast, Tiny Words, Tobacco Road, Tracing the Fern (Sammamish, Washington: Press Here, 2005), Vox Populi: 2007 Seattle Poetry Festival Anthology (Seattle: Seattle Poetry Festival, 2007), Waverley Writers (Palo Alto, California: Waverley Writers, 2007), and Woodnotes. In addition, “clicking off the late movie” was performed on the Mara Tapp Show, WBEZ, 91.5 FM, Chicago, and many of these poems have also won awards or have appeared on the Electronic Poetry Network at the Shreveport Memorial Library, Louisiana. Thanks to all the editors of these publications for lending me a hand!