POEMS: Haiku (Miscellaneous, unpublished)

                                                         I open my hand
                                            For the rain's soft nose to touch:
                                                       Getting acquainted.




                                                      They hand me a box:
                                             "Here is your mother."
                                                                        Coarse sand?
                                                       It's nothing like her!





                                                        In my idle hands
                                             Wet sand molds itself. That's it!
                                                      My dead father's face.




                                                                   MAY

                                                       Lavender blossoms
                                                        color the sidewalk.
                                                      It's raining jacaranda.




                                                            URBAN WALKER

                                                        Elbowing back smog,
                                                    filtering exhaust, she strides
                                                         the concrete treadmill.



                                                                       
                                                              LIQUIDAMBAR
  
                                                         Green fingers apart,
                                                        leafy hands gesticulate
                                                      from narrow stem wrists.




                                                            LIVING WATER

                                                           Being salt, if I
                                                    do my job right, you will
                                                 long for the Thirst-Quencher.

POEMS: Haiku (Miscellaneous, unpublished, humorous)

                                                                MAKES ME HUNGRY

                                                                  Dozing on driveways,
                                                           two kinds of cats: teakettles
                                                                   and cinnamon rolls.



                                                                         KITTEN

                                                                   Kitten, imprinted
                                                            on his beard, nestles in her
                                                                  surrogate mother.




                                                                CHANNEL ROAD INN

                                                                  In the Victorian parlor
                                                                      we watch USC
                                                                 pluck the Oregon Ducks.



                                                                     MISREADING
                                                               
                                                                  Headline misreading:
                                                           "Famous rock star greeted by
                                                                     wild ovulation!"


                                                                           
                                                              REQUIESCAT IN PACE
                                         
                                                                   Reclining husband,
                                                           eyes closed, clutching like lilies
                                                                  the channel changer

POEMS OF THE ROUGH TIMES: For safety I hop

                                   For safety I hop
                         pretending a wounded wing,
                                 away from my self.


                        (Written November 26, 1991)

POEMS: More Haiku (published)

                                  ALABASTER FRIEND

                                  You broke. All you can
                             see is shards and emptiness--
                                    But I smell perfume.



                                    POET'S MARKET

                                         Better than
                                   A restaurant guide:
                                      Free samples!

                                 (Note: No longer true.)



                                 THE GARDEN ROOM

                                    Lavender and lace,
                              antiques and faded roses--
                                  but indoor plumbing!


(Published in The Christian Communicator, June, 1995)

POEMS: Haiku (published)

                                   Omnipresent God
                             contained in all His fullness
                                    within this zygote.

Haiku (hah'-ee-koo) n., singular and plural. Thirteenth century Japanese poems which create a sharp, simple, rich image in 17 syllables, arranged in three lines of 5-7-5 syllables. Haiku traditionally are untitled and have a seasonal reference.

A haiku series is haiku grouped together for combined impact or to cover a sequence. Each haiku should be able to stand alone.

The haiku which follow are not a series. They are miscellaneous:

                                    Gusts of swirling birds,
                                  skittering of brittle leaves:
                                     Which the reflection?



                                    Autumn maple, spring
                              crocus--Christmas in Southern
                                            California!



                                     Dim crescent statues
                                    turn to playful sea lions
                                      with the paling sky.

(Published in Pebbles, January 1991)