Bug Logs, a haibun by Colleen M. Farrelly

It’s a three-mile hike to the first entomology site; dawn peaks through the mangrove canopy. A swarm of drywood termites flanks a long-fallen log near the walkway. I jot a quick location note as a faint ocean breeze creaks the branches curving over our bridge like ibis beaks.

 

summer sunrise

a frog croaks

in the heat

Pitt Büerken

history lesson

one war ends

the next one starts

—Pitt Büerken

 

hard times

they plant potatoes

in the front yard

—Pitt Büerken

rain bow

sun above

rain below

—Pitt Büerken

Anthony Lusardi

spring rain

watching fishing videos

when we can’t fish

—Anthony Lusardi

springtime shadow

my niece imagines herself

a giant with long legs

—Anthony Lusardi

Mona Bedi

midnight moon

the lullabies I learn

from the wind

—Mona Bedi

naming the brightest star we give dad a home

—Mona Bedi

Patrick G. Roland

fallen walnut

the worm’s hollow

gone sour

—Patrick G. Roland

Harold Bowes

unable to sleep

he holds onto

his little finger

with all the fingers 

of the other hand

—Harold Bowes

A memory, a haibun by Antonio Mangiameli

I open Facebook as  I usually do every evening after dinner. This time, along with the ads related to my job and interests, I see one that surprises me for today. It reminds me of a gift I gave 10 years ago. 

anniversary—

my wife’s silicone boobs

expire today

Haiga, by Lisa Reynolds & Vivienne Bretherick

 

Text by Lisa Reynolds 

Art by Vivienne Bretherick

Chen-ou Liu

in the mirror

more strands of gray hair

yet in my mind's eye

I catch a glimpse of me

at 20 with to-do lists

—Chen-ou Liu

box after box

of my immigrant life

in moonlit shadows

those I can't part with

those I can (but will I?)

—Chen-ou Liu

alone

in the shadow

of her man ...

another winter

together alone

—Chen-ou Liu

Bipasha Majumder (De)

cats and dogs

cats and dogs

seeking shelter

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

beachcombing who i am

—Bipasha Majumder (De)

Nicholas Klacsanzky

long walk . . .

the desert and I start

to smell the same

—Nicholas Klacsanzky

train tea . . .

a dream steeps

in snowshine

—Nicholas Klacsanzky

Doug Belleville

winter rain

we choose to say

remission

—Doug Belleville

couch depression

the weight of me

without me

—Doug Belleville

family reunion

revisiting my 

imposter syndrome

—Doug Belleville

closest I've come

to a prayer

prostate exam

—Doug Belleville

Steliana Cristina Voicu

tea on the porch—

linden blossoms touching

the evening shadows

—Steliana Cristina Voicu

Ricardo de la Concha

 drug raid

toddler reaches

for a laser dot

—Ricardo de la Concha

rough boulevard

neon lights smear

like cheap lipstick

—Ricardo de la Concha

insomnia

the city’s pulse

louder than my own

—Ricardo de la Concha

Anne Fox

night sky in her eyes the secret deepens

—Anne Fox

lowing wind

the sound of somewhere else

in her sigh

—Anne Fox

Oscar Luparia

highway queue

in the rearview mirror

evening rainbow 

—Oscar Luparia

Jennifer L. Blanck

tucked under a blanket of stars

—Jennifer L. Blanck 

painful memories 

the spinning cobwebs 

in my head

—Jennifer L. Blanck

M. R. Pelletier

robins on the lawn

no longer searching 

for myself

—M. R. Pelletier

Standing Wave, a haibun by Joshua St. Claire

I 

guess

it’s time

for me to 

stop thinking about

that stupid

thing I

said 

when 

I was 

just a kid

because I am all 

grown up now

and you 

are

dead

freezing from the outside in the Susquehanna 

—Joshua St. Claire

Dennis Owen Frohlich

autumn rain

sobbing

in the gutters

—Dennis Owen Frohlich

setting winter sun

the shadow lines

across the field

—Dennis Owen Frohlich

Gareth Nurden

carnival day

embedded in a glass river

cold sky

—Gareth Nurden

On The Road, a haibun by K. Ramesh

(for Vinayan)

There was a time I lived like a hobo—not on freight trains like Kerouac, but wandering through books, poetry, and jazz. I carried a Walkman with cassettes of Monk, Coltrane, and Brubeck. The 29C bus took me from Adyar to the American Library, and from there often to Landmark, where hours slipped by among books. I discovered Gary Snyder there, and my friend and I spoke endlessly of literature over coffee at Sangeetha. I introduced him to the Beats; he brought along his Mamiya C330 and took photos, each frame carefully chosen—only twelve per roll. Some evenings we browsed Shiva Bookstore on Mount Road, returning home with bags heavy with journals and poems. Landmark is gone, the 29C still runs, though the view from the bus now is broken by metro stations. 

subway... 

we pause to listen 

to the blind singer 

—K Ramesh

Mircea Moldovan

migrant's dream—

under the leaf pillow

a rusty ring

—Mircea Moldovan

campfire in the diary a blank page

—Mircea Moldovan

Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

history book

a leaf's veins

on two pages

—Srinivasa Rao Sambangi

Violet Avery Hall

dry leaves

another argument

with the boyfriend

—Violet Avery Hall