Your pain is a school unto itself–– and your joy a lovely temple.

In your hands winteris a book with cloud pagesthat snow pearls of love.

Twilight whippoorwill…Whistle on, sweet deepenerOf dark loneliness

Oh, mightiest wind,wilt thou cease thy breathing inand hold thy exhales?

I knew I loved youwhen ‘home’ went from being a placeto being a person.

O snailClimb Mount FujiBut slowly, slowly!

Death stoops over me.I’m a problem in chess. Hehas the solution.

History dressed up in the glow of love’s kiss turned grief into beauty.

To sleep on our thoughts, Is better than to lose sleep over rash actions

Awakened at midnightby the sound of the water jarcracking from the ice

The sun shines, snow falls, mountains rise and valleys sink, night deepens and pales into day, but it is only very seldom that we attend to such things. . . . When we are grasping...

We had a threesomeYou, me and my depressionDepression fucks hard

Letmeoutletmeoutletmeoutletmeout.Wait–let me back in!…Letmeinletmeinletmeinletmein.Wait–let me back out!

Twinkle tiny star.Oh, how great you truly are!God’s sign from afar.

Dead my old fine hopesAnd dry my dreaming but still…Iris, blue each spring

I would hate to see seventeen people with monosyllabic names like Mike or Ann die, but if they did, and you wrote down all their names in groups of 5-7-5, you’d have one tragic haiku.

Men know how to read printed books; they do not know how to read the unprinted ones. They can play on a stringed harp, but not on a stringless one. Applying themselves to the superficial...

Life breathed spring (haiku)spring awakeningdance of loversdelicately wrapped in cherry blossoms

The world around us conforms to expectations we place upon it.

On a bare branch a crow is perched – autumn evening

These are some of the characteristics of the state of mind which the creation and appreciation of haiku demand: Selflessness, Loneliness, Grateful Acceptance, Wordlessness, Non-intellectuality, Contradictoriness, Humor, Freedom, Non-morality, Simplicity, Materiality, Love, and Courage.

Trapped in infernoIt blazed brighter than the sunHis desire for her

Your tummy, soft aswarm dough. I knead and knead, thenbake it with a nap.

Determined, I riseand face the dawn with resolve.This time I will win.

Describe plum-blossoms?Better than my verses…whiteWordless Butterflies

Dare to love yourselfas if you were a rainbowwith gold at both ends.

shit!

You may exist inthis world–but I exist tooand I will not yield

Blood is really warm,it’s like drinking hot chocolatebut with more screaming.

You are the hybrids of golden worlds and ages splendidly conceived.

Sharing oft leaves less. But with love the more we share, the fuller our hearts.

Kareeda niKarasu no tomarikeriAki no kuretrans:On a bare branchA crow is perched -Autumn evening

NEW HAIKUOne breathy vowelmists the glass warming windowpanes crystalled with snowRobin Glasser

people don’t get meit’s more rule than exceptionGod bless exceptions

Dogs have hair. Cats, fur.Dogs whine, yip, howl, bark. Cats purrr.I say: No contest.

I stumble and fall.I weep and struggle to rise.My mom feels it all.

Calligraphy of geeseagainst the sky-the moon seals it.

Love taught me to die with dignity that I might come forth anew in splendor. Born once of flesh, then again of fire, I was reborn a third time to the sound of my name...

Reading haiku is as much an art as writing it. The reader needs to pause and listen to the silences, to feel the spaces between the words, and to journey into the depths of many...

Over the wintry forest, winds howl in rage with no leaves to blow.

If this were real life,Ed would have looked at her neck-bite, dead, burp, credits.

Death wins nothing here,gnawing wings that amputate––then spread, lift up, fly.

Footsteps of success, are trailed by fading footprints, of failures past..

April’s air stirs in Willow-leaves…a butterflyFloats and balances

Your hair is winter fire,January embers.My heart burns there, too.-Stephen King, IT

My children are monsters, Kiro thought. And I am responsible. Perhaps if I had read them the haikus of Basho when they were little instead of that American manifesto of high-pressure sales, Green Eggs and...

Fine. If you insist.I’ll try Just.One.Nibble. But–I won’t enjoy it.

In pale moonlight / the wisteria’s scent / comes from far away.

Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.

Haiku does not express emotion from the inside out by displaying the mind of a character. Haiku builds the emotional thrust, makes the artistic statement from the outside in, from the physical world to the...