From Haiku in English

In 2013, I had six poems published in Haiku in English: The First Hundred Years, edited by Jim Kacian, Philip Rowland, and Allan Burns, with an introduction by Billy Collins (New York: Norton). The book traces the history of haiku written in English, starting with Ezra Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro,” and stretching into the 21st century. It was also my pleasure to be part of the inaugural reading from the anthology aboard the Queen Mary ocean liner in Long Beach, California, which was the site of the 2013 Haiku North America conference. Here are my six poems.       +



                                                                                                                                after the quake

                                                                                                                                     the weathervane

                                                                                                                                          pointing to earth



                                                                                                morning chill . . .

                                                                                                the bag of marbles

                                                                                                shifts on the shelf



                                                                paper route

                                                                     knocking a row of icicles

                                                                     from the eave



                                pulsing

                                in the wiper’s blade

                                the bee’s abdomen



crackling beach fire—

we hum in place of words

we can’t recall



                                                                                                meteor shower . . .

                                                                                                a gentle wave

                                                                                                wets our sandals                         +


                                                                                                                                 after the quake

                                                                                                                                     the weathervane

                                                                                                                                          pointing to earth



                                                                                                morning chill . . .

                                                                                                the bag of marbles

                                                                                                shifts on the shelf



                                                                paper route

                                                                     knocking a row of icicles

                                                                     from the eave



                                pulsing

                                in the wiper’s blade

                                the bee’s abdomen



crackling beach fire—

we hum in place of words

we can’t recall



                                                                                                meteor shower . . .

                                                                                                a gentle wave

                                                                                                wets our sandals                         +