Haiku: Pocket Change (a few haiku and haiku-like things)

windless night–
how many ways into this house
the moon has found

traffic jam–
condensation sweat
on the jug of OJ

a mussel closes
on the kitchen counter

the shadow lace
of neighboring trees

slant light–
chainsaw sound
fading to splitting wood

runoff in the mortar-work
reaches the other side

the salesman goes on–
a few leaves
pick up and eddy

I watch a mosquito
take me away

a last whistle of something
as I turn on the reading light

barb by barb/   the wire/   blossoms with moonlight


Between us, we cannot remember everything. I throw words into the air, you listen. You throw words into the air and I hear what you say. They help us; we try. I can understand the way you feel, how you hold on. I see, as you tear, that you are holding some of my pain. In a moment, we will reach for each other, hold each other in embrace, hug, remember, try, try to remember, we will love, we will love and not forget…

morning glories–
the shadow
of a heart shaped leaf


linen closet–
between the heirlooms
a stink bug

county fair–
the way she touches
my lifeline

thaw day–
the ice mound’s crust
of car soot

mourning doves–
feet shuffle
in the day work line

the mask of a raccoon
at the hummingbird feeder

bag onions–
a waft of skin
on the scanner window

cancer ward–
flower nutrients disappearing
in the vase water

airport window–
the cloud of my breath
as your plane reaches the clouds

Monday morning–
the last of the bathwater
eddies away

farmers market–
she asks where you got
your Good Humor

streetlamp shadows…
the stretch
of a beggar’s hand