Dayandnightmare

Trump Empire, Inc.: C

a senryu-inflected, visual haibun

A red brick wall fills my field of vision; its perimeters are out of sight.

MAGAMAGA

echoingback

MAGAMAGA

NeverEnding Story, August 17 2026

Added:

The Sound of Absence 

a senryu-inflected, visual haibun

Bedroom door slammed shut, I'm left to my own devices.

finger scrolling

OnlyFansSexTubePornDude ...

one stray outbarks the rest

Added:

the moan of a dove ...

my wife replies, I fake it

until you make it

Maple Leaf Flag Tanka

the Maple Leaf

flaps in drifting snowfalkes  ...

a hyphen

before "Canadian"

joins my two halves

The Bougainvillea Journal, 1, 2026

Summer Grass Haiku

summer grass

on both sides of the border

rusted helmets

Highly Commended, Wales Haiku Journal Summer Competition 2026

FYI: For a detailed analysis of this "structurally allusive" haiku (in relation to Basho's), see Poetic Musings: Summer Grass Haiku

summer grass

all that remains

of warriors’ dreams

Matsuo Bashō,  written at the Hiraizumi battlefield in 1689

Old Grief Haiku

lone beach stroll

wave after wave 

of old grief 

The Bougainvillea Journal, 1, 2026

Bruise-toned Night Haiku

bruise-toned night 

things she remembers 

things she doesn't 

The Bougainvillea Journal, 1, 2026

Aftermath Kyoka

Politics of Distraction, XXI

aftermath ...

questions amid camera clicks

before Trump

yet the lingering smell

from this catering truck

NeverEnding Story, August 12 2026

Added:

my face lit 

by the glare of a screen ...

no words come 

except a murmur:

a dreamer, not yet a poet

Added:

A cup of cold coffee holds a skin of dust.

blinking cursor ...

the silence between me

and a word to come

Hum of Summer Clouds Haiku

rippling sunshine

a hum of summer clouds 

in the mountain stream

NeverEnding Story, August 11 2026

FYI: It might be interesting to do a comparison reading of my haiku below:

the sky dappled

with cotton candy clouds ...

summer fair

Autumn Moon Haiku Journal, 6:2, Spring/Summer 2023

Added:

a loon call

held by the mountain lake

summer moonlight

Added:

predawn darkness

the silence between me

and a world to come

Added:

For Sale askew

a porch dreamcatcher

gathers dust

Added:

waiting room smell

patch by patch summer sunlight

slips out of the door

Added:

a full moon

between the sarsen stones 

of Stonehenge

one silhouette ghosting

across the gravel path

Forest Bathing Trail Haiku

forest bathing trail ...

the scent of dappled sunlight

and birdsong

Cafe Haiku, April 27 2026

Great Blue Heron Haiku

lone great blue heron

crack after crack splitting

the frozen river

Cafe Haiku, April 27 2026

Lone Bear Haiku

a lone bear

wind-sculpted ice cliff

in twilight

Cafe Haiku, April 27 2026

Seaside Train Trip Tanka

seaside train trip

to my childhood hometown

with eyes closed

and the window ajar

I breathe in, and breathe out ... 

Laurels, 5, 2026

Pink Roses Drooping Tanka

pink roses

drooping in a vase—

the shadow

of the psychiatrist

darkens my niece's face

hedgerow, 152, 2026

One Stray Blossom Haiku

breezy sunshine

in a field of poppies

one stray blossom

NeverEnding Story, August 5 2026

FYI: My haiku is allusive to the following:

across the road

from a field of sunflowers:

a sunflower

Basho

Bashō's haiku relies on spatial juxtaposition ("across the road"), making the lone sunflower unmistakably distinct from the field.

My haiku relies on selective perception. The "stray blossom" may be physically separated, but the haiku leaves that open. The emphasis is on the act of noticing one flower within abundance.

Furthermore, "stray" in L3 introduces a different emotional coloring. Bashō's solitary sunflower is simply there; it is not described as aberrant or misplaced. Stray adds a sense of deviation, which makes the haiku more dynamic. It invites metaphorical interpretation.

A reader might see the stray blossom as:

an individual within a crowd,

someone who does not conform,

an outsider,

a free spirit,

or simply the one who catches the observer's attention.

None of these meanings is stated. They arise naturally from the image itself.

Added:

red balloon drifting

over skyscrapers, a child's gaze

from the wheelchair

Added:

miles apart

loons calling each other ...

a sea between us

Added:

inside

the sea turtle shell:

salt crystals

FYI: This could be read as a prequel to my haiku below:

the life

I leave behind ...

a turtle's shell

On down the Road: HSA Members' Anthology, 2017

Added: No More Fairy Tales, LVII

smoky sunset

cloaking the country road

while birds scatter

in the rearview mirror

all that I was behind me

FYI: This could be read as a sequel to my poem below:

No More Fairy Tales, LVI

What has been will be again

Acrid black columns choke the morning sun. Trapped in a valley of smoke, cars barrel past leaping tongues of fire. Across Northern Ontario, wildfires burn hotter, bigger, and deadlier than ever. More than one thousand miles away, their smoke casts an orange haze over New York's crawling traffic.

Meanwhile, silhouetted against smoky skies, the Premier’s mouth opens and closes for the camera lights, broadcasting word after word into the heat.

tongues of forest fire

there is no Plan[et] B, the rest

blah, blah, blah...

NeverEnding Story, July 18 2026

Night Breeze Haiku

scent of night breeze

pink blossoms drizzle

with laughter

PJCA’s First International Multilingual Haiku Anthology, 2026

Remembering

"doctor, please

the sounds, they won''t leave"

a boy mutters …

buzzing of drones, roar of jets

screams of Gazans, living and dead

For days he lies curled in a shelter bed, staring at the pockmarked wall as if it could answer him, until the sounds lodged deep inside his head finally overwhelm him.

When the razor wire outside glints with the first light of a new day, silence enters his head … and his life, five years older than the war that claimed it.

Ribbons, 22:1, 2026

Human, All Too Human

heated breaths

and tangled bedsheets

bodies and dreams . . .

the bittersweet burden

of this love affair

 

to Kintsugi Master

I lament, with gold glue

could you piece back

my shattered heart?

a cloak of silence falls

 

chance encounter

at a motel ice machine . . .

with eyes and hands

we undress each other’s armor

curling into a single dream

Ribbons, 22:1, 2026

Mind Snow-White Haiku

In response to Anaïs Nin's claim:

If you do not breathe through writing, if you do not cry out in writing, or sing in writing, then don't write.

the clock stares back

before robinsong rising

my mind snow-white

NeverEnding Story, August 1 2026

Added: Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words, CCCII: "peace and pieces"

Inspired by Andrei Tarkovsky's remark in his book, Sculpting in Time:

Poetry is an awareness of the world, a particular way of relating to reality.

And also in response to Donald Trump's Gaza "Peace Plan"

day to night to day

smoke columns climb without end

Israel wants peace: 

piece by piece from Palestine

through Lebanon, Syria ...

Added: Against the Drowning Noise of Other Words, CCCIII: "biggest crime scene"

not a "strip"

but the world's biggest crime scene ...

amid the rubble

a Gazan boy, unmoving

stares at the smoke-smeared moon

War News on Mute Tanka

war news on mute …

the morning light spills

over garden beds

where herb seeds nudge the crust

seeking room to grow

Ribbons, 22:1, 2026

Gliding Kayaks Tanka

gliding kayaks ...

ripple after ripple

overlapping

summer stars that bridge

what words never could

NeverEnding Story, July 30 2026

Added:

the time it takes

for my aging beagle

to close his eyes—

crumbled dog-treat pieces

left in my jean pocket

FYI: My tanka below could be read as its sequel:

my neighbor’s dog

hit by a red sports car ...

after our walk

she tells me she  sees

his shape in the clouds

Bright Stars, VI, 2014

Added:

one tide cycle

after another and another

across the Pacific 

pulling out, returning anew ...

my heart still on the other shore

Added:

to stay or to go

I murmur to myself

again and again 

through the autumn wind 

each leaf zigzags its way down

Added:

all things must pass,

the seasons teach me this —

yet I still press

my face into her lingerie

forgotten in the basket

Lilac Breeze Haiku

lilac breeze

the bumblebees

crescendo

The Solitary Daisy, 68, 2026