The following “Haiku from Index Cards” may come as a surprise.
sudden downpour—
the umbrella salesman
offers a rain-check
(written 1997, published 2000)
sudden fall—
stain on my skate lace
from a rusted aglet
(written 1996, published 2002; written at the Iceland Skating Rink in Belmont, California)
sudden guilt
all the labels in their medicine cabinet
turned to the wall
(written 1994, published 2000)
sudden gust
across the tide pool
the smell of the sea
(date written unrecorded, but either 1990 or 1991, published 1993; see “A Gnat in Amber” renku)
sudden lightning—
the street mime
claps
(written 1992, published 1998)
sudden quiet
after the computer power-down
risen moon
(written 2003, published 2008; see “From Montage”)
sudden silence
frogs
cease their croaking
(date written unrecorded, but prior to March 1988, published 1992)
sudden sneeze—
my baggage
over the weight limit
(written 2023, published 2023; see “Terminal Illness” rengay)
sudden summer rain—
a pine needle catches
in the wiper blade
(written 1991, published 1994)