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.