Embedded Files
Over the years, numerous poems of mine have been selected as “Haiku of the Day” poems on the Haiku Foundation website, typically fitting a specified theme for particular months. This page collects all my “Haiku of the Day” poems from 2021 to the present, most recent first. “Haiku of the Day” was previously called “Per Diem,” and I also include as many of my poems from this earlier feature as I have been able to find. I believe at least a dozen additional poems were shared as “Per Diem” poems but I have not yet found them on the Haiku Foundation website’s “Per Diem” archive. A few poems have appeared more than once.
About a dozen of my “Per Diem” poems also appear on the “THF Haiku” app available on iTunes (originally released in October of 2011). Also, in May of 2012, I served as a “Per Diem” editor myself, presenting 31 haiku and senryu from Pacific Northwest poets (these poems also appear on the Haiku Foundation website). +
shadows growing
at the end of our garden
here be dragons
spring breeze—
the pull of her hand
as we near the pet store
missing you—
slowly the ceiling fan
comes to a stop
the loon’s ripples
disappear
mandolin summer
mountain spring—
in my cupped hand
pine needles
the old rope
smooth in my hand—
new year’s bell fading
winter squall—
my daughter tells me
her doll won’t sleep
the last patch of snow
on the mossy lawn . . .
a call from home
scattered petals . . .
the thud of my books
in the book drop
bills due—
in my dream
the endless stairs
(after the lithograph Relativity, by M. C. Escher, 1953)
first snow . . .
the children’s hangers
clatter in the closet
Per Diem
Per Diem
The following is a selection of poems I could find included as “Per Diem” selections on the Haiku Foundation website, among others I’ve written, including about a dozen poems before 2011 or so. Some of the following dates may not be accurate.
rain in the forecast—
what have I done
with my afternoon?
between songs . . .
pick marks
on an old guitar
ice cream
dripping off her chin—
the girl with freckles
from horizon to horizon the milky way
busy Italian restaurant—
happy birthday
sung to the wrong table
18 July 2019 (no link available, but see this page)
spring breeze—
the pull of her hand
as we near the pet store
first date—
letting her
put snow down my neck
an old woolen sweater
taken yarn by yarn
from the snowbank
the siren stops
at the draped body—
hopscotch markings
small-town diner
the young widow
opens her mail
after-dinner mints
passed around the table
. . . slow-falling snow
visiting mother––
again she finds
my first grey hair
for her this spring
the greengoing woods
still greening
(for anne mckay)
after the brushstroke,
his head stays tilted
to a sun-dappled sumi-e
(for Kaji Aso)
meteor shower . . .
a gentle wave
wets our sandals
still thinking about
that bird in the tunnel—
the radio flares back on
under the eaves
a barn owl’s shadow
another
meteor shower . . .
a gentle wave
wets our sandals
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