The following miscellaneous “Haiku from Index Cards” all start with the letter Q. In fact, this is all of my poems that start with the letter Q (at least those published up until about September of 2024).
quarantine
awoken
by birdsong
(written 2020, published 2021)
quarter moon—
a bent bicycle wheel
left in the trash
(written 1992, published 1994; see “Swirling Leaves” renku)
quiet afternoon—
leaves on her desk
arranged by colour
(written 2000, published 2003; also in “California Surf,” a renku that may have been published in Geppo in 2000 or 2001)
quiet garden—
the rose’s blue shadow
under moonlight
(written 1999, published 1999; for Karyn DiCastri, at whose San Francisco home this was written, using magnetic poetry tiles)
quiet hospice—
pens and pencils
in an old mug
(written 2015, published 2023)
quiet Japanese garden—
a branch cut on the side
facing away from the path
(written 2006, published 2007; see “Nitobe Meditation” tan-renga collection)
quiet library . . .
a yarn in reference
spreads to nonfiction
(written 2012, published 2013)
quiet souls—
even the gravestones
catching the wind
(written 2000, published 2021; see “Quiet Souls” essay/haibun)
quitting time—
the shoe print
on the elevator button
(written 1996, published 1997)