Sultry Voice Tanka

a crescent moon

in the Tagus River

her sultry voice

wailing out a song

tinged with passion and regret

NeverEnding Story, June 1 2014

Rose Petals Haiku

rose petals
in the ditch
gathering my thoughts

brass bell, 3, June 2014

Dead Man Thinking, A Tanka Prose

for the author of The Pleasure of the Text

After Roland Barthes declared the death of the author, two poems, lined up side by side, look suspiciously over their shoulders at each other.

this cold night                           in spring breeze
shakes me by the collar             the painter captures
I avoid their gaze                      a migrant's smile
when they shout,                       under a banner that reads,
no more immigrants!                diversity is our strength


NeverEnding Story, June 1 2014

Empty Bed Haiku

her empty bed ...
get-well cards catching
winter sunlight

"Modern Haiku," Under the Basho, 2014

Monarch Haiku

between me
and a waking dream
the monarch

"Modern Haiku," Under the Basho, 2014

Willow Haiku

a willow
painting the spring wind
my dog and I

"Modern Haiku," Under the Basho, 2014

Swan Song Haiku

swan song...
silencing
the silent

"Modern Haiku," Under the Basho, 2014

Three Words Tanka

on my roof
a thick blanket of snow . . .
will her three words
help my inner child
crawl from its hiding place?

Cattails, 2, May 2014

Muse Tanka

the muse and I
live together for years
like two workers
who bunk in the same room ...
snow flurries after Easter

Cattails, 2, May 2014

Iron Fists Tanka

his iron fists
shattered those summer nights . . .
her memories
come as if reflected
in the splintered glass

Cattails, 2, May 2014

Pacific Tanka

behind me
lies the Pacific
in its depths
the drowning specks
of hometown memories

Cattails, 2, May 2014

Speed Dating Senryu

speed dating
every face looks
like my ex's

Cattails, 2, May 2014

Zen Center Senryu

walking out
of Sunlit Zen Center . . .
which way to turn

Cattails, 2, May 2014

Viagra Senryu

Viagra billboard . . .
I wait
for signs of spring

Cattails, 2, May 2014

I must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy me, a tanka prose

Alone in the darkness of this May Day morning, I can hear the droning of my muse's air-raid sirens. Waiting for the next explosion of words drives me crazy like a moth flying into the summer fire.

word-bombs
slash the alleyways
of my mind...
the feel of a black tip
moving across the page

NeverEnding Story, May 19, 2014

The Same Moon between Mother and Me, A Haiku Sequence

these hands
once reached for mother's breast ...
holding a gun

Pacific shore...
waves swishing through the sand
and mom's lullaby

mother squeezing
the side of my belly
first hometown visit

NeverEnding Story, May 10 2014

Immigrant Haiku

Canada geese
under the rainbow
a new immigrant

Cattails, 2, May 2014

Mooncakes Haiku

maple leaves
falling by ones, by twos—
the smell of mooncakes

Cattails, 2, May 2014

Railroad Haiku

railroad cars
crossing a country road
the migrant’s shadow

Cattails, 2, May 2014

A Tanka about the Door of No Return

night after night
shackled slaves screamed
in distress
Barack Obama stands
at the Door of No Return

Skylark, 2:1, Summer 2014

Note: The former slave house with its "Door of No Return" was the last location for slaves being shipped to North America.

Imagine, A Haibun

For John Lennon

A long line of Calliopes clad in lily-white, waiting in the hallway. Each is enveloped in the darkness of her own, screaming. Drops of sweat stream down my forehead, falling past my eyes onto the floor. I yell, "Push, baby, push ...." The last words holding on to the inside of my muse's womb for hours.

I'm a dreamer ...
a twinge
in my heart

NeverEnding Story, May 6, 2014

Silkworm Tanka

rewriting tanka
I'm reminded of her words:
a silkworm
weaves the cocoon to seal
its grief-stricken heart

Skylark, 2:1, Summer 2014

Dead Rat Haiku

freezing rain
in his mouth
a dead rat

The Bamboo Hut Press, 2014

Note: This haiku with a pivot deals mainly with breaking "Omerta," the traditional Mafia code of silence: when an informant "rats" to the police, he is later found dead with a dead rat stuffed in his mouth. It's thematically, visually, emotionally, and most importantly, socioculturally different from, yet allusive to Michael McClintock's haiku below:

dead cat. . .

open-mouthed

to the pouring rain

The Haiku Anthology, 1986

Pigeons Haiku

winter rain …
pigeons share an umbrella
at the roadside

The Bamboo Hut Press, 2014

Potholes Haiku

Country Roads ...
our car hiccups home
over potholes

The Bamboo Hut Press, 2014

A Life in Transition, A Tanka Prose

ten-lide ticket

to Toronto ...

in the booth

what did you say

echoing and echoing

I try to speak like you in order to be able to speak with you. But, to your Canadian eyes, I look just like one of the Chinese coolies who laid the last spike of the Canadian Pacific Railway, and who were cropped out of the ceremony photo.

Haibun Today, 8:2, June 2014

A Room of His Own, A Haibun

In the poems we reveal ourselves. In prose others. -- Phyllis Webb, Notebook, 1969-1973

cold moonlight

books of poetry

stacked floor to ceiling

Hearing of my housemate's suicide was like being stabbed in the back with a sharp knife, and yet I barely knew him.  Only his work and the scratching sounds of pencil on paper that came from his room. "His noisy silence (in an emphatic tone) hangs over us like a long, dark cloud," one of my other housemates once said to me.

drafts of old poems

on the water-stained wall

a starry sky

One week before his death, I was standing on the edge of the table hanging a clock, when he passed through the living room.  He suddenly turned to me, saying, “I have this insatiable urge to commit pencil to paper. It soothes my soul." He went back to his room and continued to spin poems out of the gathering darkness.

Haibun Today, 8:2, June 2014
World Haibun Anthology

Note:  Read Ruth Holzer's in-depth thematic and structural analysis, titled "On Chen-ou Liu's 'A Room of His Own'," which was first published in Haibun Today, 8:3, September 2014.