Since getting my BFA in studio art I have found it more difficult to write poems, especially Haiku.  Perhaps most of my creative energy goes into drawing and painting. I struggle to paint in a second bedroom in our small apartment.

throwing another brush on the floor
and cursing
paint on the carpet

starting a new pile of paintings
in the last empty corner
a spider measures the canvas


catching up

It has been quite awhile since I updated with some new Haiku.  This has a been a particularly brutal winter. Snowfall after snowfall.  Full-on blizzard conditions. Clients falling by the wayside.

Cleaning out the car
the growl of the tow truck
grinding up the slushy drive

My knees ache constantly. The temperatures have not moderated upward. Our “January Thaw” was two days in the upper 30’s.

Deep in the night
my knees waken me
to watch the snow falling

Spring will come. My auntie tells me to call on the angels and ancestors.  “Watch for Cardinals” she writes.

Looking out the window
a flying duck
trips on the powerline

the factory closed in December

the ringing in  my ears

louder than ever

New stuff

Sitting at the weathered table

drawing faces

acorn rain


sunlight and leaves

changing the hue

of the lawn


 (for Kandinsky)


looking deeply at

my own body dissolving

“Abbilding Seite: 29:

New Ones 07/11

coffee water
coffee water
drinking through the morning

driving slowly
along backroads
the furrowed fields

at the end of the corn fields
the beginning of the runway

10:30 driving around
10:45 driving around 10:50
all morning waiting

a seagull flying overhead
his shadow over the parking lot

walking through the neighborhood
all afternoon
counting flower petals

awakened from
my afternoon reverie
tourists asking directions

“give up the struggle
and just do” the master says
red leaves cover the ground

“our path is
whatever comes naturally”
the master sneezes – hard

“no mind! no mind!”
the master shouts
a shower of windblown maple seeds

“grow white flowers
in the shit of suffering”
master’s master died

“only this moment”
master’s voice
echoes through the hall

the master says and points
a gull drops a quahog

banging the door
“wake up!” master yells
the old shed collapses

“silence! practice it!”
the master says
suddenly, a ringing in my ears

“the wanting wants
itself” the master chuckles
a hound baying at the moon

“the buddha knows
even war” the master
jumping from stone to stone

“anger obscures all good”
the master folds each page

“you are the many
jeweled buddha,” the master
laughs, dances, is gone

New Project

I am starting a new project. I am taking my Haibun “The Bodhisattva Who Lost His Way” and creating a series of drawings to go with it. Then I’m gonna publish it in various ways. Look for excerpts and drawings here and on Facebook.

hopping toward me
hopping away from me
the robin on the sidewalk