Food Haiku

Individual poems first published in various haiku journals. Two of these poems (“after-dinner mints” and “bookmobile day”) were also stamped onto paper grocery bags distributed at selected Seattle grocery stores, and also part of Bob Redmond’s SLUG Food Haiku Reading that I participated in at Seattle’s Jewelbox Theatre on 24 August 2009 (see two images below), and also appeared in a handmade anthology of poems from this poetry event. See photos and the Seattle Times article about this reading.  Nearly all of these poems have also been done in Japanese versions by Hidenori Hiruta at the Akita International Haiku Network (scroll down to find my name).

birthday picnic—

grandma’s throw

half way to the toddler


we walk the boardwalk hand in hand

          sharing ice cream

     headaches                                                                     +


after-dinner mints

passed around the table

. . . slow-falling snow


busy Italian restaurant—

happy birthday

sung to the wrong table


express checkout

    the fat woman counts

        the thin man’s items


at his favourite deli

the bald man finds a hair

in his soup


rice chaff

whitens the scoop—

supper alone


apples picked

and the casket chosen—

lingering sunset


grocery shopping—

pushing my cart faster

through feminine protection          +


a crab apple

from the highest branch

rattles down the rain spout


the waiter interrupts

our argument on abortion—

a choice of teas


first day of school—

I eat my buckwheat pancakes

in silence


bookmobile day—

huckleberries bloom

along the white picket fence


breakfast alone

slowly I eat

my melancholy


a table for one—

   leaves rustle

in the inner courtyard


a deer leaps—

the hunter’s

     closed eye


tarnished silver

     the only guest

          eats in silence               +


a withered apple

caught in an old spine rake

. . . blossoms fall


gunshot recordings

echo over the vineyard . . .

a grackle’s stained beak


a broken bamboo cane—

      ripe tomatoes

      grow along the ground


cafeteria line—

the good-looking girl

looks at my plate


apple picking—

a feather blows

from the empty nest


Valentine’s Day—

a cherry tomato

bursts in my mouth          +


summer vacation—

our rhubarb stalks

tipped with sugar