July 10 2011

Retort and Reply
Waking to arguments I
Only had in dreams

Laundry room window
Tangerine clouds fade to white
like the dream last night

#2 - 2010

cries fall on the wind
twenty six geese at sunset
skywriting again

#1 - 2010

Cold windows at dawn -
Light as blue as robin’s eggs
and twice as brittle.

four men point and laugh
back slapping, congratulatory :
traffic accident

cloudless city night
bamboo bends to catch the wind.
black tea and white moon.

cracked pavement still damp
white petals flattened to brown
almond scent on thumbs

Light on lemon tree
Yellow white on yellow green
tea on sill gone cold

Cat squinting with sleep
at rooftops exhaling mist
and bees hard at work.

Sun, red in wet sky,
smoke's smell rising, and... Falling
sawdust on my shoes.

Eggshell splits and SNAP
Gold-white lightning sunders
The rainclouds above.

Cloudy sun spills wind
Stirring its own reflection
Wet bamboo trembles.

wet creaky fence
blooms with spreading spots of red
beneath camelia

gusts slap magnolia
petals fill flooded pavement
as we jump on curbs

closet full of box
sofa under spring cleaning
where will the cat rest?

Ninth of October

Geese in an arrow
Marking the cloudless sky with
Nothing but their cries

Eighth of October

Shadows falls slanted
Dusty brown hands streaked with bright chalk
Disappearing lines

Seventh of October

Autumn haze aloft
Bright grey skies and dull grey streets
With no space to park

Sixth of October

Spot above the pines
Starbright pearl hanging near moon
Jupiter or Mars?

Always starting

It will take forty
I say to no one but
the cherry tomatoes

Boiling water calls
to pot emptied of green tea.
Geese laughing above

New #5

Inch-worm on the leaves
Of the flowering basil
cuts out green half-moons.

new #3

Smiling at your smile
Over a pot brought to a boil
While snapping fresh corn

new #2

A cold spring's cleaning
And yet the houseguest departs
before they have stayed!

a new #1

Work folds up early
White moon hot sweat ocean chill
Night in the city

13 December 2006

Why is the kid's pool
filled up with fake blood? Ah! Oh!
Bondage a go go!

12 December 2006

The cat, suspicious,
glares as we turn out the lights,
sick of vacations.

11 December 2006

Mozarella, mushrooms,
and caramelized onions:
Pizza in Berkeley.

10 December 2006

Two places at once?
Physics bows to tempography;
The date line is crossed.

#147

Held still by the gaze,
the pale eye and stormy brow
of the bright full moon.

#146

All afternoon long,
the rain and wind unceasing;
jumping deep puddles.

#145

With a buzzing spark
The old grey fan spins to life
And the breeze comes in.

#144

Old men laughing
as young women ignore them:
Surely it is spring.

#143

So many auditions
that worry you, leaving me
ashamed of losing track.

#141

the sound and the scent
of falling wisteria
can barely be felt

#136

The snowdrops are out
basking beneath the sun, so,
why am I inside?

#104

Look at that damn line,
stretched over two city blocks.
Hell no, we won't go!

#103

The rainstorm rolls in
against all expectation
as the guests arrive.

#102

The door you left through
is locked on your returning
just as the rain comes.

#98

lone cherry blossom
among the thick ranks of leaves
and snow on green hills.

#90

Towering clouds spin
across the face of the sun
white pinwheels whirling.

#89

Cat! Get off the road.
You're scaring the guests
and tempting your fate.

#88

Wind tearing branches
from the eucalyptus tree
like a restless child.

#87

In grip of illness,
sitting in a messy house,
poems can't be wrote.

#80

Chirping hummingbird
on hearing notes from a flute
chirps even louder still.

#78

Two cold small cats sit
in a row on the pavement
waiting for their girl.

#74

Exchanging our drinks
across a narrow table-
What else might we trade?

#72

Beneath thin high clouds
I split the firewood, and pause,
to look at the moon.

#71

Bundle of lemurs,
no blanket to wear but the
moon rising to full.

#70

Grey cat on the roof
happy looking down on you,
happy to jump off.

#69

lazy specks of dust
and strains from a violcello
rising in still air.

#68

Plum petals falling
on a plate of pickled plums
arranged as petals.

#66

With three sunny days,
the mud on the verge is dry
beneath my slippers.

#65

Oh, you reckless blooms
of cherry, plum, and apple.
You have come too early!

#64

The man in leather
prancing onstage for crowds has
fourteen grandchildren.

#63

Finding a used book
After giving up the search
is unavoidable.

#60

Red robin chirping.
Wild onions thickly growing.
Orange cat sleeping.

#59

Watching the faint dawn
between the folded clouds,
warming my cold wrists.

#58

There can be no doubt,
sitting in the dentist's chair :
Vacation's over.

#57

Crows in rowdy song
defy the grey dawn outside,
waking me from dreams.

#56

Waiting for the start
of Breakfast at Tiffany's,
we end up waltzing.

#55

Crumpling old receipts
without regret- then riding
outdoors through puddles!

#54

Is that fallen snow
on my porch? No - only petals
thrown down by the rain.

#53

When rising, one must
write on an empty stomach
but have a stout lunch.

#52

Two crows flying north
without a noise between them -
Siblings or lovers?

#51

Dark-eyed children stoop,
picking through dreams and torn lace
and cigarette butts.

#49

Spinning on my heels
Red and gold walls glimmering
Caught up in a dance.

#48

Late moon fades to blue,
tarrying in the dawn,
falling to the west.

#47

The windows breathe cold
into every room of the house
save the one you're in.

#46

Wet grey clouds turn gold
lit by sunlight and rainbows.
People stop to stare.

#45

The robins pick through
dead leaves in the roof gutters
just in time for toast.

#44

Glass turns to metal,
burning like aluminum,
When sunset approaches.

#43

After a cold night
the dream slips away at dawn
chased by cloudless skies.

#42

Despite Buddhism,
in fifth gear on the freeway,
detachment is hard.

#41

Blue sky driven back
by tall clouds in serried ranks.
Green hills drink the rain.

#40

The crowded dance floor
holds the heat of moving feet
but the moon is cold.

#39

Rushing freeway lit
by millions of red tail-lamps
is dimmer than dusk.
We drive by lamplight beneath
the stars that will outlast us.

#38

Sun for four days straight
People blink in disbelief
and clutch their raincoats.

#37

Engine roars to life,
a wreck rolls despite itself,
Geese honk, flying south.

#36

Pleasantly surprised
at what I wrote in two weeks
battling colds and damp.

#35

Eating fresh torn leaves
of basil with shrimp and sugarcane
washed down with green tea.

#34

Scent of fresh lemon
rises in a patch of sun
slipped through a window.

#33

Lone firework bursting;
plovers scatter on the beach :
dots of spreading light.

#32

Speeding south with news:
The seals have come for winter
to birth, breed, and shed.

#31

After the train's roar
My ears are left ringing by
the hissing of rain.
Punctual, I knock, then find out:
I've come to the wrong address!

#30

Seed pods in my car
scattered with the broken glass
shining with raindrops.

#29

Fireworks in the mist
sparkling like rain in the sun
and you in my arms.

#28

Crack! The passing storm
floods roads, breaks trees, crushes cars,
and scrapes the sky clean.

#27

Tooth in the driveway:
rain-spattered human molar.
Who dares pick it up?

#26

Robins scratch through leaves
framed by bare branches of plum
on a slanting roof.

#25

A new play is done.
I bicycle in brisk wind
during the storm's lull.

#24

Telephone ringing
with nobody on the line.
Robots again? Bah!

#23

Black cat on a roof,
sprinkled with yellow leaves, goes
hunting for the wren.

#22

Driving back and forth
Between the sea and river
Catching rain and mist.

#21

Mirror of the bay,
framed by green mountain peaks capped
with a crown of clouds.

#20

A break in the fog
the skylight drinks up the sun
shot with light's arrow.

#19

Crimson leaves make a
bonfire against a bleak sky
burning all winter.

#18

Ignoring the rain
a wet man waters the earth
over and over.

#17

Solstice moon hiding
behind a constant drizzle
still calls to the sun.

#16

When the raining stops
The workmen race to finish.
Ants raid the kitchen.

#15

Suspenders anchored,
leaping wet leaves and puddles,
I wish for a hat.

#14

I found angry friends
returned from their eviction
drinking and laughing.

#13

Cat, wrapped in blanket,
watches the rain returning.
Why bother going out?

#12

Housebound, on the couch,
dozing beneath long shadows
cast by the cold sun.

#11

Walking up the stairs
hurts much more than walking down
when you've caught the flu.

#10

Periwinkle blanket
edged with pale gossamer peach :
Sunrise looking east.

#9

Ebb tide at sunset:
Mud dunes ripple half-submerged
like countless coiled snakes.

#8

Forget the sunrise.
Forget the empty sky and
remember my arms.

#7

Walking at dusk, past
magnolia blooms in winter,
bearing a thin pine.

#6

Black dog tugs a rope,
clowning for her tipsy guests.
White cat waits at home.

#5

Green iron teapot
steams with unwrapped darjeeling.
Outside, teacup moon.
Sea winds at the Golden Gate;
Still air at noon and midnight.

#4

Four hand-made pizzas.
Six settings at the table.
Ate with old true friends.

#3

Cold comes after rain,
jackets are worn indoors,
shoes need drying out.
Play tunes for a white cat while
waiting for a delayed flight.

#2

I woke on the couch

with stories still in my head.
Composing all day,
even in class with children
who spoke of frozen water.

#1

Four out of eight, late.
Watching from the back, script in
hand, pen on paper.
Shook hands, drank wine, lit candles,
amazed at my luck, my life.

What this is & Why this is.

The Haiku Daybook will record 365 extemporaeneous short poems in the traditional haiku or medieval tanka forms: one poem for every day of the year, starting on December 5th of 2005. This is equal parts writing exercise and mnemonic aide.

The tanka is an predecessor to the 5-7-5 structure of haiku, with a pair of seven syllable couplets attached as a kind of epigram.

Memory is the intent, writing is the means, poetry is the method.

Without writing (sometimes said to be the art of observation), I find myself straining to remember that which goes unrecorded. English is not the best language for haiku given the non-ideogrammatic roots of the romance languages, but I like the enforced brevity. I'm sure any readers will feel the same way.

In re-reading my entries I hope that the process of distillation that results in each completed poem will be tapped into afresh.

A friend once told me to read a single new poem a day to hone one's expertise with the language.

Good advice- but how much more might be gained by writing a single poem a day as well?

I intend to find out.