ost evenings at sunset and in its afterglow, when not preempted by some pesky obligation, I sit at our west window watching the daily “sunset movie” (a different showing each night), headphones in place, listening to music chosen to suit my mood, a glass of decent cabernet near at hand.

Immersed in this multi-dimensional beauty, I watch my mind, curious to see where it goes and what it does, undirected by purposeful intent, often revealing what has been lurking in the shadows of my awareness.

I call this my “sweet hour of secular prayer.”

While in this altered mental state, my muse sometimes drops in for a visit. She suggests artful words to convey a simmering idea or sentiment. I focus her attention on that shiny object for a while, hoping to cultivate those seedling words and harvest them before they drift off into the waning sunset, out of my memory, lost forever. Sometimes, those words can be kneaded into the shape of a haiku quintet.

The items in this volume are products of those sunset musings.

Haiku quintet explainer: Like other haikuists, I strive to pack as much meaning as possible into seventeen syllables in three unrhymed lines of 5-7-5 format, adopting the 17th Century Japanese style. Intentionally ambiguous words and phrases prompt the reader to project personal idiosyncratic significance onto the verse (think Rorschach inkblot). Diverging from tradition, and committing other poetic heresies, I compose a quintet of haiku under a single umbrella idea, which, as an ensemble, comprise a narrative theme. A photo or image illustrates and completes the final product. I dub this novel art form “verbal impressionism by curious wordcraft.” Apologies to Basho for my unorthodoxy.

About me: I am a retired mediator, psychologist, and educator living with wife Susan in Sarasota, Florida. Born in 1945 on a family farm in Missouri, I served (reluctantly) in the U.S. Army in Vietnam (non-combat) and Panama Canal Zone (1966-1968). Holding the PhD in psychology from University of Missouri (1977), I am the author of two books on mediation, one on secular humanism, and five volumes of haiku quintets. I am the father of one and grandfather of two. Drawing upon nearly eight decades of life’s adventures and misbegotten lessons, Haiku Quintets may be viewed loosely as an autobiography, of sorts. For more, see www.dandana.us

All images are published by permission or source attribution, unless in public domain. Photos and images that are not attributed were created by the author.

CONTENTS

This collection is designed to be browsed aimlessly, as you might while strolling a beach, happening upon interesting shells and colorful bits that catch your attention. Or, if your habits insist, start at the beginning and proceed to the end, as in life itself.

This is the second edition, which contains 117 haiku quintets that appeared in the original e-book-only edition plus 131 additional pieces, composed since August 2020. The world has evolved, as has this poet.

Love and Relationships

SECOND EDITION

•I Forgot to Ask ~ … before it was too late

•Inexpressible ~ Do you know what I mean?

•Three Magic Words ~ Harnessing the reciprocity reflex

•In Mommy’s Eyes ~ Love is all there is

•Newborn ~ Love swaddles you

•Only a Mother Can Know ~ Her soul-crushing loss

•Existential Borderland ~ We’re near, but not one

•A Coding Error ~ What I heard is not what you meant

•Decrypting Woman ~ What is your password?

•Be a Simp ~ Advice for boys and men

FIRST EDITION

•How to Make Love ~ This isn’t what you think it is … it’s better

•Microeconomics of Love ~ Do lovers keep score?

•Puppies in a Box ~ The secret sauce of easy marriage

•The Bridge Between ~ This span shall stand

•Sibling Love ~ Aging siblings celebrate our lifelong bond.

•A Grandfather’s Lament ~ A common malaise of grandparents?

•Surrender, Move On ~ When what should have been cannot be

Susan

SECOND EDITION

•Finding Her ~ His arrow struck gold

•My Valentine ~ There’s something about two

•Kissing Quandary ~ No, you need your rest

•Transactional Love ~ We each think we are winning

•My Dream ~ Awaking from a nightmare

FIRST EDITION

•Song for Susan ~ A love story

•Angel on Earth ~ The kindest person I’ve ever known

•Susan’s Not Done Yet ~ There’s a pattern here.

•Susan at Play ~ Play on, and on, and on …

•Just You and Me ~ The bottomless depth of a mother’s grief

•The Moore Sisters ~ Three moms, seven cousins, two losses

•Reunion ~ A moment to be remembered for a lifetime

Special People

SECOND EDITION

•Soar, Claribel, Soar! ~ Your world awaits you

•In Your Hands Now ~ Take this worn baton

•The Young Widow ~ A son’s belated tribute

•Jay ~ No ordinary mensch

•Saruni ~ Our Maasai friend

•Pedicure Bobbi ~ My toes’ hottest date

•Thanks, you, Daniel ~ About last night …

•Bob ~ We grew each other.

•Captain Simon ~ Please do not retire!

•My Piano Teacher ~ A melody in my life (by Susan Dana)

FIRST EDITION

•My Mom ~ It takes a village to raise a child. But first, a mother.

•My Dad ~ My totem

•Nurse Tarin ~ You’re my hero, too.

•Edda ~ Primal playmate, oldest friend

•Remembering Lucy ~ Mender of the mind

•An Old Flame ~ I want to learn about myself.

•Adrien ~ Gender pioneer

•Mutual Muses ~ My friend and I inspire each other.

•Richard, King of Reframe ~ Discoverer of the secret of life

•Ode to Mrs. Mason ~ The Universal Teacher

•Kit ~ One classy lady

•Ambassador Bobbi ~ Appreciating our condo queen

•Richard Died Today ~ Our friend is with us no more.

Life and Death

SECOND EDITION

•Along for the Ride ~ For as long as it lasts

•My Dad’s Afterlife ~ His death and earthly afterlife

•What If? ~ What might have been?

•Staring into the Abyss ~ We had a chance to change course

•My Bucket List ~ Scratched off

•Certified Adult ~ I am what I am

•Be Here Now ~ My most ambitious non-goal

•(How To) Be Here Now ~ OK, sounds easy, but how?

•Misplaced Grief ~ I’m not the one who will grieve my death

•Five Seconds Left to Live ~ Is this how I die?

•Voice of a Nulled Child ~ A billion years of suffering averted

•Poor Man’s Philanthropy ~ Most humanist bang for modest bucks

•The Joy of Nihilism ~ I will write haiku

•It Is What It Is ~ It’s my damn turn

FIRST EDITION

•Autobiography ~ 76 years compressed to 85 syllables

•Life: The Movie ~ View from the peanut gallery

•Go gentle ~ Or rage, rage?

•Meanwhile ~ I Rest in Peace … now

•Jim’s Last Gift ~ He illuminated the road ahead

•Mack’s Vision ~ When marital visions diverge

•Thin Silver Lining ~ End of young life may not be all bad

•Chicxulub Asteroid Impact ~ Our lucky day?

•On Antinatalism ~ Is life good? I mean, really, is life good?

Pandemic

SECOND EDITION

•2020 ~ Existential year

•Bon Voyage ~ Dedication for Songs of the Pandemic

•Thanks you for Working ~ Express gratitude to pandemic workers

•The Crime of Killing Time ~ I sip slowly now

•I Forgot My Mask ~ Necessity is the mother of invention

•Pandemic on the Serengeti ~ Report from the Maasai by Saruni

•Quarantine Cuisine ~ Good fortune’s sour taste

•This Haiku Is About You ~ Can you find yourself in it?

•Final Moments ~ So, this is how it ends

FIRST EDITION

•My Race Against Time ~ Will I finish this before fate intervenes?

•Quarantine Coiffure ~ Paradigm shift in men’s hairstyles

•Comet Covid ~ A blast from within

•Epidemiology ~ Pass the course … or die.

•Introverts Unite! ~ What’s so bad about self-quarantine?

•Invisible Enemy ~ Beware the Trojan virus.

•BC ~ Before Coronavirus, when life was simple

•The Black Swan Has Landed ~ Our surreal new normal

•Self-Quarantine Report ~ Home confinement works for me.

•Coronavirus ~ Apocalypse now?

The Art of Haiku

SECOND EDITION

•Why I Write ~ Art as antidote to existential solitude

•English Is Best for Haiku ~ We’re a shameless sponge

•A Bouquet of Senses ~ How our garden grows!

•Flight of the Haiku ~ Icarus has crashed

•Bicentenary ~ Celebrating this 200th haiku quintet

•To Grow a Haiku ~ From seed to flower

•The Perils of Haiku ~ Words disturb my peace

•Haiku Hack ~ A little haiku helper from gestalt

•A Study in Metaphor ~ If you get my drift

•Molting Art ~ These words were never truly mine

•Writing Between the Lines ~ Can you read between the lines?

•Joan Didion ~ An appreciation

FIRST EDITION

•85 Syllables ~ Coloring between the lines

•Who Writes This Stuff? ~ Is metaphysics at play?

•The Craft ~ What is a “good” haiku?

•Ode to Pablo Neruda’s Ode ~ On socks and poetry

•Unpoetic Poetry ~ Hmmm … I’m wondering about these haiku

•My Haiku Machine Is Broken ~ My muse is gone … or is she?

•Lyrical Science ~ Brushing word-art’s colors on science’s canvas

•BrushStrokes in the Sky ~ Reflections on time

•Photography Art ~ Photography-as-art mic drop

•The Novel ~ A haiku whodunit

•Absurdist Haiku ~ Sometimes meaning is found in unlikely places.

•Smorgasbord of the Mind ~ A gathering of word-nerds

•Natural Art ~ All art by human hands is not made.

•For Whom the Art Trolls ~ What’s art to you? And who says so?

•Is This Art? ~ Verbal impressionism by curious wordcraft

•Sketches in Haiku ~ Boldly going where acolytes fear to tread

•Daughter of Basho ~ Imagining haiku’s bygone creator

•Haiku or Not Haiku? ~ Is Basho rolling over in his grave?

Science and Secularism

SECOND EDITION

•Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) ~ A dedication

•Holiday Haiku ~ Be kind and have fun

•A Date in Spacetime ~ When and where shall we meet?

•Celebrating Winter Solstice ~ Longer days are here again!

•Lucky Planet Mars ~ Cancel life’s blueprint

•Our Phylum’s Caste System ~ The Golden Rule beyond humans

•Strategic Retreat ~ Only one path remains

•You Are My Afterlife ~ My stuff will go on, and on, and on …

•Humanists ~ Good without god(s)

•Is Atheism a Faith? ~ Is not collecting stamps a hobby?

•Darwin Day ~ Nothing fails like prayer

FIRST EDITION

•Whence Reality? ~ Cosmology’s sublime mystery

•Math = Nature? ~ Why does math describe the natural world?

•Universe ~ Blow your mind, peer into the Hubble Ultra Deep Field.

•That’s the Mystery ~ Failure of imagination

•Cosmic Boundaries ~ What’s on the other side?

•Edge of the Universe ~ There’s nothing on the other side.

•Pondering Infinity ~ My tiny brain hurts.

•Gravity Makes Things Round ~ The shape that floats in spacetime

•Cosmic New Year ~ Who moved my galaxy?

•Saturn ~ The pearl of our solar system

•Water ~ The molecule that built us

•Supermoon ~ So near, yet so far … so far, yet so near

•We Are Accidental People ~ If a different sperm got there first

•Life ~ Mars rover seeks proof of the obvious.

•Climate Crisis ~ Whether to postpone Earth’s certain fate

•First God ~ Grandaddy Deity

•On Dying ~ An atheist’s approach to death, dying, and choice

•My Nigerian Atheist Friend ~ He must hide his truth.

Mediation

SECOND EDITION

•Peace Is Possible ~ Supporting Hungarian mediators

•Police Mediation ~ Use a softer touch.

FIRST EDITION

•Simple Magic ~ Mediation is a life-skill.

•Hidden Common Ground ~ Interests underlie.

•Mediation ~ A life’s calling … and its afterlife

Democracy

SECOND EDITION

•Identity Precedes Ideology ~ Let voters decide

•Watching War Begin ~ Russia attacks Ukraine

•May We Long Endure ~ Lincoln’s hopeful words

•Promise Unfulfilled ~ What follows?

•Hanging by a Thread ~ Whither democracy’s noble experiment?

•Elect Women to Public Office ~ Better leaders by their nature?

•Kamala ~ Identity politics might save America this time.

•Afghan Girl ~ Misogyny rules your world

•The Hill We Climb ~ From Amanda Gorman’s inauguration poem

•Please Don’t Read This Haiku ~ A blunt paradox

•New Year (2022) Predictions ~ Foretelling hopes and fears

FIRST EDITION

•VOTE! ~ Democracy is on the ballot

•The Wolf and the Sheep ~ Time to get a new sheep?

•Execution by Hubris ~ Who will be his next victim?

•Shrinking City on a Molehill ~ America’s lethal myth

•This Defining Moment ~ Where does this triple-threat lead?

•Refuge in Art ~ I think I’ll write a haiku.

•Why vote? ~ Can you resolve this logical paradox?

•American Expat ~ An alien in my homeland?

Anti-racism

SECOND EDITION

•Lived Experience ~ What’s it like to be you?

•The Swing ~ Bayfront Park, Sarasota, Florida, 9 March 2022

•No Whining on the Yacht ~ Curb your privilege

•Journey of a White Liberal ~ Racism’s persistent stain

•Blacks Get Shot ~ Why?

•John Lewis ~ You changed the world

FIRST EDITION

•I am African ~ And you are too.

•My Shrinking Island of Privilege ~ I dream Martin’s dream.

•Black in America ~ Where can I breathe free?

•Right to Privilege? ~ Is empathy enough to balance the scale?

•Branches of the Human Tree ~ Name the trunk of this tree. Please.

•Woke? ~ Racism’s tricky wiles

Places

SECOND EDITION

•Scribes at Brunch ~ Sarasota, Florida

•Knoxville ~ Knoxville, Missouri

•Hitchhiking ~ The highways of America

•Motorcycle Mishap ~ Nacaome, Honduras

•Helado ~ Bogotá, Colombia

•What Did Paul Believe? ~ Ephesus, Turkey

•Night Train to Kiev ~ Moscow to Kiev, USSR

•A Bridge in Cairo ~ Egypt

•Mandela ~ South Africa

•We Chose to Hike ~ Machu Picchu, Peru

•Earthquake ~ Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

•Big Guy ~ Sitka, Alaska

•My Pakistani Seatmate ~ Chicago to Istanbul

•Iceberg ~ Qaqortoq, Greenland

•The Pickpockets ~ Buenos Aires, Argentina

•Escaping Saigon ~ Seattle-Sydney cruise

FIRST EDITION

•I Have Survived, Somehow ~ So many close calls

•Woodstock Souvenir ~ Life’s a trip.

•Tet 1968 ~ Was I even there?

•Vietnam ~ This veteran’s reflections

•Puerto Vallarta ~ Our Mexican home town

•Homeleaving, Homecoming ~ Two homes on two bays

•Diez Pesos ~ How much can this small coin buy?

•Malecón Buskers ~ Strollers’ seaside entertainment

•Cousin Taco ~ My moral dilemma

Whimsy

SECOND EDITION

•This Haiku Missed the Boat ~ No worries, it’s on the next sailing

•Now ~ There are no words

•GOAT or GEFN? ~ A sunset muse on ambition in my 77 th year

•Bigoted Goats ~ On the Connor mini-farm

•Did You Get My Note? ~ Is this haiku about you?

•This Haiku Journey ~ What lies ahead?

•Whither Sisyphus? ~ I will write haiku

•What’s That Word? ~ On the tip of your tongue

•Collective Nouns ~ All together now …

•First Things First ~ Sharpen my axe

•Anything ~ Anything at all

•Access Denied ~ Watching my brain think thoughts

•A Spring Haiku ~ But first, a definition

•Covid Chicks ~ A hatching project

•L5-S1 ~ Ode to back pain

•Fear & Greed ~ In the marketplace of everyday life

•Six-Word Sentences ~ Is this the weirdest haiku quintet ever?

•A Matter of Scale ~ Reflections on September 11

•How To Go To Sleep ~ No drugs required

•I Rite Perdy Good ~ My secret sauce

•Haiku Pun ~ A collaboration with master punster Barry Zack

FIRST EDITION

•Animal Friends ~ Not so different you and me, my pet

•Carpe Diem ~ Time flies, life is short, grab it.

•Time Flies ~ Could we just slow this runaway train down a bit?

•Moonset ~ What choices do we really have?

•Idealism vs. Realism ~ Inspired by Samantha Power

•Organic Haiku ~ Read it in good health.

•Superbowl 2020 ~ Your haiku sports reporter is on the beat.

•Lexophilia ~ Wordplay can be pun.

•The First Shall be Last ~ Aging and its nuisances

Acknowledgements

About the author

LOVE AND RELATIONSHIPS

I FORGOT TO ASK

Grandpa, where were you

when the First World War broke out?

I forgot to ask

Grandma, tell me tales

about my great-grandmother

I forgot to ask

Dad, how did you choose

your career, and your first wife?

I forgot to ask

Mom, what did you like

about Dad when you first met?

I forgot to ask

kids, is there something

you’d like to know about me?

don’t forget to ask

My mom on her final birthday, 2008

INEXPRESSIBLE

in one precious frame,

the three women I love most

… I’ll trace my heart’s joy:

this measly haiku

struggles to carry the freight

of love’s sundry forms

too few syllables,

my thin thesaurus fails me

… surely there’s a way!

for want of language,

all who burst with love’s heartbeat

wear this poet’s shoes

inexpressible

in words known to humankind

… d’ya know what I mean?

THREE MAGIC WORDS

practiced life-partners

know well I-Love-You’s effect

when sincerely voiced

triggers like response

reciprocity’s reflex

ripens love’s sweet taste

less known and practiced

three more magic power-words

when disputes erupt

defenses ignite

blame, fault, anger take the wheel

driving toward a ditch

harness that reflex

take high road to love’s repair

asking, Tell-Me-More

PowerPoint slide from MTI’s mediation training course – www.mediationworks.com

IN MOMMY’S EYES

you are my whole world

you have no name but Mommy

you and I are one

I glow in your eyes

no border separates us

I’m still inside you

your face delights me

I see me in your eyes’ gleam

your smile is my joy

not-me is just you

I want nothing else but you

you give me myself

now is eternal

here is only you and me

love is all there is

Jakie in love (look closely at Mommy’s face reflected in his eyes).

Photo credit: Sara Scott

NEWBORN

welcome to the world

held in loving arms and hearts

you’re one lucky kid

though you can’t yet know

your keen senses surely feel

that love swaddles you

what wonders await

what sights your wide eyes will see

what far lands you’ll know

you’ll climb life’s mountains

and plumb its valleys’ dark depths

learning as you go

those who gave you life

love you just for who you are

not for what you’ll do

Tyghe

ONLY A MOTHER CAN KNOW

her soul-crushing loss

secreted behind a veil

of smiling good cheer

grief’s smothering shroud

cloaks her tomb of living death

gladness cannot pierce

some few know her pain

mothers’ tear-drenched lost-child club

woe to those who join

pin-hole views both ways:

our sweet love and lucky life,

her dark lonely cave

despair’s icy grip

can’t endure but can’t move on

none but moms can know

EXISTENTIAL BORDERLAND

we touch, I feel you

separated by our skin

we’re near, but not one

we meet, I see you

separated by our masks

we’re near, but not one

we talk, I hear you

separated by our words

we’re near, but not one

we care, we share love

separated by our selves

we’re near, but not one

we’re close, but alone

a borderland lies between

no bridge can join us

Image source: schizlife

A CODING ERROR

she said what she meant

in well-chosen word-symbols

perfectly clear, eh?

he heard what he chose

“I know her intent,” he thought

“I read her script”

he replied with care

in same language (so it seemed)

“I get it,” she thought

but something went wrong

unseen filters warped our view?

or coding error?

neither of us knew:

what I heard’s not what you meant

‘round and ‘round and ‘round

Image credit: Smithsonian

DECRYPTING WOMAN

countless blunderings

litter my long winding path

to this latter day

decades of missed cues

my garbled ear could not hear

my blurred eye couldn’t see

his-and-her desires

vulnerabilities glimpsed

in funhouse mirrors

coded messages

modestly sought undressing

sometimes urgently

fumbling for access

hacking your encryption key

guessing your password

The object of my desire

BE A SIMP

Advice for Boys and Men

in youth’s herding code

boys who respect girls too much

face harsh derision

to what awful depths

fragile egos degrade us

to disguise male shame

Nazis’ masked weakness

required Jews to dominate

scapegoating’s dark force

moms, dads take just pride

your simp-sons lives are bettered

by their female friends

admire woman-kind

behold her awesome soft strength

hear her wise voice sing

An exemplar of her kind

HOW TO MAKE LOVE

no deep secret here,

common sense for kind partners

use this simple tool:

pay close attention

mate’s soft bids for connection

accept, don’t reject

turn toward, not away

turn-aways starve trust, troth, love

attention glues bond

listen when she speaks

show delight in his success,

laugh at her fun pun

meet kiss-hint with yours

subtle gestures flow both ways

turning-toward makes love

MICROECONOMICS OF LOVE

fairness your focus?

getting less than you’re giving?

wrong frame for true love!

keep score? … self-defeat

tally win-lose? … ensures loss

bean counters divorce

one plus one is three

giving yields rich abundance

think outside the box

transactional love?

oxymoron, can’t compute

quid pro quo shorts both

frank talk is core task

honest, sincere, empathic

surrender control

Image source: richmond

PUPPIES IN A BOX

it’s often declared

among relationshipped folk:

“marriage is hard work”

not so, in our nest

I don’t own you, nor you me

one plus one is three

no promises bind

I choose you afresh each day

our freedoms unchained

kindnesses gifted

each in debt to the other

both balance sheets green

key: primal friendship

secret simple sauce known by

puppies in a box

Image source: wallpaperplay

THE BRIDGE BETWEEN

joined by life itself

our two islands lie nearby

genomes entwine us

unbalanced traffic

memos sent but few returned

like black hole, it feels

norms may push or pull

generations cloud our view

dear ones nudge apart

both isles feel the stress

we’re each moored to other shore

our love can lift fog

this span shall not fail

force of will and love prevail

bridge between us stands

Sarasota’s Ringling Bridge, a handy metaphor

SIBLING LOVE

we shared Mom and Dad

our genomes are most alike

we know our first home

as kids we played nice

as adults we found our mates

now our own clans grow

our journeys diverged

miles lie between us now

our worldviews evolved

love takes sundry forms

not mates, nor just friends, are we

nor children most dear

lifelong sibling bond

unlike any other care

Sis, Bub, I love you

GRANDFATHER’S LAMENT

fruits of my daughter

precious beyond all counting

on their own way, now

their journeys are launched

as teen, I once sailed their boats

they’re the captains now

yearning to know them

aching to be known by them

all grandads’ lament?

reciprocity?

must be unsolicited

hunger stays unfed

so, let them go, grow

my role’s task is done, mostly

have a good life, kids!

SURRENDER, MOVE ON

(A pragmatic alternative to “never give up”)

the good fight is lost

what should have been cannot be

just more needless pain

blind choices of youth

intending love and kindness

naive trust misplaced

deferred to loved ones

only wishing for their good

self-blame serves no one

vast unknown unknowns

unforeseeable outcomes

forgive yourself now

from this moment hence

recognize futility

surrender, move on

Image source: Castillo de La Mancha

SUSAN

FINDING HER

like ripening fruit

he was growing more ready

to re-pair his life

he’d relived a time

he had never lived before

only imagined

wiser choice, this time

he had learned the recipe

of love’s secret sauce

armed with his treatise

he sallied Cupid’s broad plain

vision in focus

his arrow struck gold

two puppies snug in our box

‘til death we’ll remain

MY VALENTINE

there’s mojo in two

one eye’s not enough, nor ear

one leg cannot stand

one heart’s not enough

mine hardly beats without you

my self’s other half

one plus one is three

in love’s odd mathematics

our equation works

one half-life’s too short

I have doubled-down on you

a winning wager

in our tree-top nest

you are twice the worth of me

I’m whole with you here

KISSING QUANDARY

so snug on the couch

blanket tucked under your chin

blonde wisps frame your face

your afternoon nap

this precious at-home Sunday,

you’ve been working hard

sweet love swells my heart,

we’re two puppies in a box

sharing life’s comforts

might I sneak a kiss

on your cheek, but not wake you?

my lips want your warmth

no, you need this rest

you would lift your sleepy head

to greet my sly kiss

Photo taken from my desk while writing this haiku

TRANSACTIONAL LOVE

clean underwear, socks

mysteriously appear

in dresser drawers

Sunday brunch specials

just magically show up

at my table spot

I’m deeply in debt

my meager debits don’t match

her credit surplus

she accepts payment

in curious currencies

from my bank’s account

exchange rates vary

but each thinks we are winning

rich beyond measure

MY DREAM

she died in the night

I nudge her lifeless body

in bed beside me

her skin has grown cool

was she aware of dying?

did she not suffer?

panic engulfs me

can life be lived without her?

(thinking of myself)

what do I do now?

crushing grief clenches my heart

or just selfish fear?

I startle awake

in tears, I touch her warm skin

she stirs, “what’s wrong, Sweets?”

SONG FOR SUSAN

co-traveler mine

this path we chose together

hand in hand we go

your innate kindness

showing, guiding, teaching me

enriching my world

our trust locks our bond

no dark suspicions intrude

e duo unum

just humanism

our religion unalloyed

I believe in us

onward ’til our end

living day by precious day

my friend, love, mate, life

ANGEL ON EARTH

no spirit-elf myth

if angels on earth there be

I know one quite well

foresees others’ wants

nurse-caregiver at her core

off-scale thoughtfulness

nurtures by nature

needy child’s strong advocate

voice-and-choice’s champ

tenacious pit bull

restores sundered families

mama-bear fierceness

makes our house a home

kindest person ever known

I kiss her nightly

The angel in 1953

SUSAN’S NOT DONE YET

morning’s alarm sounds,

wake me at eight, you had asked

“I am not done yet”

did you finish it?

(audiobook on your walk)

“I am not done yet”

bacon on your plate,

I eye it with interest

“I am not done yet”

birthdays piling up,

stack getting fretfully high

“I am not done yet”

my idle question:

do you still love me, my Dear?

“I am not done yet”

SUSAN AT PLAY

only three years on

you’ve come a long way, baby

music scents our nest

seven decades on

a long and winding lesson

your dad’s dogged child

high barricades breached

deep hollows of loss and grief

you’ve prevailed by grit

kindness is your song

finest player ever known

music scents my life

we’ve shared harmony

these twenty-six years, so far

play on, and on, and …

JUST YOU AND ME

for nine loving months

before birthing, sharing you

with the waiting world

… it was just you and me

I nursed you to life

I fiercely held you tightly

I protected you

now you’re gone, so gone

lost to my sore, sobbing soul

no soft skin to sooth

none knew you like me

none loved like I loved you

no one cared like me

my mother-love aches

you remain inside me still

a hole in my heart

… again, it’s just you and me

Mother and son, shortly before his death

THE MOORE SISTERS

seven Moore cousins

Grandma’s and Grandpa’s treasures

burst onto the world

from seventy-two

seven years of pregnancy

’til seventy-nine

three sisters, now two

new moms chasing girlhood dreams

stirred by love and hope

heartland family

New Jersey to Ohio

Kansas City home

lives, loves, losses lived

spanning time, miles, hearts’ divides

two left us too soon

All seven children of the three Moore sisters, 1984

REUNION

four hard years have passed

I saw love in your sad eyes,

and you in mine

discovering now

Nana’s back, I was not gone

my love did not lapse

stunned tears tell your grief

clever girl, but truth withheld

I now reappear

craved joys may resume?

turn forward, put past behind

though memories haunt

our future’s unknown

may I return to your life?

and you to mine?

September 26, 2019, 8:15 pm, Olathe, Kansas

SPECIAL PEOPLE

SOAR, CLARIBEL, SOAR!

our clan’s loved fledgling,

eager eagle set to fly,

your world awaits you

your wings will lift you

to wuthering distant heights

beyond now’s knowing

your mind will be blown,

your horizons will recede,

your wisdom will surge

you’ll meet sage teachers,

life-school’s diverse faculty:

people unlike you

launch your journey with

this ticket to anywhere

… soar, Claribel, soar!

Restrictions and limitations:

1. Effective date: 6 June 2021

2. Expiration date: One year after ticket holder’s graduation from college

3. Destination limited to surface of planet Earth. Ticket not valid for interplanetary travel.

IN YOUR HANDS NOW

here’s Martin, my chum,

we’ve made music together

since my Woodstock year

life-forging moments

with good friends and wispy muse,

my hands shaped her sound

your deft touch will form

next half-century’s moments;

you’re her new escort

with friends and solo

you’ll make magic together

long beyond my years

what a trip we’ve shared!

Seamus, take this worn baton,

she’s in your hands now

Photo September 2000

THE YOUNG WIDOW

by fate’s cruel hand

his ripe leaf fell from the branch

her burden doubled

her three charges weighed

testing daily her lone strength

her limbs bore their load

no man to heed her

young woman’s natural needs

too proud to settle

she tilled her hard ground

tending us sprouts ‘til harvest

her beloved yield

the boy could not know

by his age’s innocence

what she did for me

circa 1948

JAY

haiku scribe’s pen, here,

channeling your multitudes’

deep admiration:

musical genius,

psychohistory mentor,

author, linguist, sage

but beyond such flairs

of the ordinary mensch,

your kindness outshines:

your caring warms us,

your compassion inspires us,

you enrich our lives

our ardent esteem

mortal words cannot express,

no, not even these

SARUNI

our dear Maasai friend

animal interpreter

Serengeti home

knows wild’s secret ways

mother died by buffalo

shielded by savvy

Superman’s eyesight

hippo, elephant, giraffe,

lion whisperer

seeking two more wives

driver, guide, English speaker

may be chief some day

saw Nairobi once

“Why would anyone live there?”

loves his peaceful life

Saruni and friends, Maasai Mara, Kenya, August 2018

PEDICURE BOBBI

my monthly friend

my happy toes’ hottest date

my feet’s indulgence

my daughter’s cohort

mom of kids of like ages

as my two grand-ones

your listening ear

calls forth tales of younger years

buried in time’s dust

your wide-open mind

invites my odd flavorings

of life’s smorgasbord

our calendared chats

stir this Papi’s yearning for

Covid’s hostages

THANK YOU, DANIEL

dinner last night was …

delicious, delectable,

just magnificent,

totally scrumptious,

mouthwateringly tempting,

awesome, outstanding

savory, yummy,

fantastically toothsome,

wickedly luscious,

succulent, delish,

superbly appetizing,

finger-lickin’ good,

effing outrageous,

indescribably good grub,

… truly beyond words!

Image source: Depositphotos

BOB

two young seekers we

by serendipity met

half-century past

we would change the world

psychology-powered zeal

open skies beckoned

two-man support group

exchanging brilliant brainstorms

irrigating dreams

your maps showed new Earth

likewise, my mediation

on another plane

careers now punched out

in rear-view mirror I see

we grew each other

CAPTAIN SIMON

condo’s helper-cop

friendly greeter at our door

lends a ready hand

your smiling voice gleams

your sensor keeping close watch

knows when we arrive

car-parking wizard

our very own biker dude

sly guitar picker

Pepsi-fueled guy

volunteer cookie-tester

pizza connoisseur

we celebrate you

treasured member of our team

please do not retire!

MY PIANO TEACHER

by Susan Dana

your magic fingers

tickling those charmed ivories

trying to teach me

man of great talent

and an even greater heart

your love songs abound:

Mozart and his ilk

Mom, Miss Kitty, Mister Big

Perry at your side

maestro of flowers

in tennis, softball, piano

you’ve got to move it!

your teaching tunes me

a melody in my life

I thank you, Steve Kline

The remaining poems in the “Special People” section appeared in the first edition of Haiku Quintets, indicating that they came to mind before some of those featured in the second edition, above. Read on. I think you’ll recognize the uneven priorities.

MY MOM

25 December 1918 – 15 September 2009

Christmas-born baby

sturdy hardscrabble farm-folk

third of six, five boys

learned love from Grandma

sacrificed past my knowing

selflessness unseen

music, prized heirloom

kindness, greatest gift of all

I sip from her depth

I claim no esteem

by genes and her example

she created me

village raises child

genetic treasures bequeathed

but first, my mother

Photo: 1919

MY DAD

14 December 1874 - 22 April 1955

birthday boy salute

age one-hundred-forty-six

older dad than peers

totem of my youth

aspirational model

pedestal figure

dwindling few of us

remember his twinkling eyes

wry smile, playful ways

when I reach his age

who’ll recall my twinkling eyes?

great-great-haiku bard?

meanwhile, my life runs

busy living in my now

just like my old dad

Photo circa 1919

NURSE TARIN

frontliner hero

Pandemic Twenty-Twenty

dream begat nightmares

braveheart volunteer

Kansas City to New York

epicenter’s core

lives saved, others lost

dying and crying alone

truck-morgue engines roar

souls flood ICU’s

loved ones watch death through veiled screens

shift-change cheers buoy moods

proud comrades-in-care

memories for a lifetime

you are a hero

My niece’s face after wearing PPE through a 12-hour shift

EDDA

my primal playmate

cotton dolls ‘neath grandmas’ quilts

church-basement Wednesdays

no nearby age-peers

country schoolmarm taught us well

square dance romance throbbed

our mothers had plans?

timid shyness kept me mum

but fantasies roared

Mizzou brought new worlds

each found our own path onward

fleeting decades passed

Sarasota lunch

glad to see you, oldest friend!

… you’ve not changed, have I?

School photo: 1955

REMEMBERING LUCY

friends, lovers, mentors

never bored, just start talking

Mizzou was our spore

Jamaican venture

did not see our danger

dodged bullets with wits

Key West summer bliss

waitress, midnight leftovers

Duval Street pool shark

Freud’s ardent student

analysis, her passion

mender of the mind

left us waaaay too soon

never got to say goodbye

her id lives in me

“The Witness” retrieved from her desk, now on mine

AN OLD FLAME

she reached across worlds

three decades, long-ago selves

warmly sent, received

mid-life interlude

lives upheaved, futures unclear

happenstance happened

relishing freedom

sharing smiles eased our journeys

warming together

our courses diverged

seemed lost to dimmed memory

then … inbox shouted!

how are you, old friend?

I want to learn about you

and about myself

ADRIEN

ace Corvallis grad

top left corner denizen

physics/math teacher

precocious from birth

so smart in so many ways

kind and caring soul

strong confidence shows

warm inner self glows

road ahead beckons

gender pioneer

educating us Boomers

blazing your own path

proud aunt and uncle

cheer your life’s next adventures

Sarasota calls!

MUTUAL MUSES

my friend Donna G.

in pensive sleepless repose

birthed haiku quintet

this morn’s inbox gift

false modesty cast aside

I quote two stanzas:

peaceful and quiet

trying something new tonight

simpler than I thought

new meditation

a new form of art enjoyed

thank you, Dan Dana

you honor me, friend

I’ve not been a muse before

your turn now, Donna

RICHARD, KING OF REFRAME

half-century pal

Mizzou days, hippie-students

housemates, co-seekers

eschewed normal path

no career, no house, no wife

renounced possessions

house-painting maestro

dirty work raised to high art

biker-wanderer

failure, some might say

happiness-rich, love-endowed

exceptional wit

unearthed life’s secret

scholar sans portfolio

my friend, my guru

ODE TO MRS. MASON

seventh grade teacher

taught all subjects with finesse

four-grade classroom drills

farmland country school

sentence diagramming fun

weekly spelling bee

just carrots, no sticks

blackboard performances cheered

errors gently coached

seedbed sown with care

career trajectory launched

my sprout has grown tall

sixty-two years hence

living still, in this haiku

thank you, Ms. Mason

With gratitude to the Universal Mrs. Mason, teacher of children, worldwide, throughout time

School photo, 1955

KIT

our friend and neighbor

inspiration to us all

four score and fifteen

dresser to the nines

grit, determination, cheer

fans seek to echo

whiz collage artist

hostess most extraordinaire

home gallery brims

opera, ballet

connoisseur of all fine arts

one classy lady!

you enrich our lives

cherished times, talks, meals, sharings

we love you, dear friend

AMBASSADOR BOBBI

lovely condo queen

cop of the straight and narrow

our home is your beat

lobby denizen

shepherd o’er this wand’ring flock

eighteen floors of friends

solves ev’ry problem,

knows our needs before ourselves

keeper of the keys

ageless cat-lady

Ms. Energizer Bunny

always on the go

our gratitude brims

you warm our community

happy holidays!

RICHARD DIED TODAY *

sudden, awful news:

our salon leader, our friend

is with us no more

Mondays’ confab host

holding forth, his court beguiled

King Richard The Wise

awesome intellect

bright beacon, lighting our way

wellspring of brilliance

Yalie at his core

playful, genteel, erudite

best-of-breed lawyer

in memoriam

with deep gratitude we mourn

we’ll miss our old friend

* 19 November 2019

Photo: With DG

LIFE AND DEATH

ALONG FOR THE RIDE

I’m a spectator

in world’s unfolding drama

one unit of life

I’m not at the wheel

just a wide-eyed passenger

hurtling through spacetime

on Earth’s fragile skin

voyaging the vast unknown

along for the ride

awash in deep awe

of this accidental trip

as long as it lasts

I’ll binge on life’s feast

with gratitude for blind luck

’til my final bite

MY DAD’S AFTERLIFE

smoking wasn’t blamed

no one knew it was cancer

that was killing him

coughing up dark blood

he got sick in mid-winter

did he see ahead?

I am his youngest

us kids stayed with Grandmother

to shield us, I s’pose

last time I saw him

snaked tubes in oxygen tent

he was not moving

and then he was gone …

glimpsed in wistful, wishful dreams

he still lives in me

Setting: My dad’s death and earthly afterlife, 22 April 1955 to present

Photo: J. W. Dana (12/14/1874 – 4/22/1955) with family, 11 June 1952

WHAT IF?

counterfactual

ghosts lurk this reality,

shadows of what-if

who would “I” have been

if other sperm won the race

at my conception?

wife would not be mine,

daughter’s, grandkids’ lives unlived

who else might have been?

my choices have touched

those of myriad others

these tangled decades

alternate beings

died at the blind corner of

This or That

STARING INTO THE ABYSS

once upon a time

we had a chance to change course

but skipped the off-ramp

warm water expands,

ice sheets melt into the sea,

coastal cities sink

half of world’s people

escaping to higher ground,

crowd their new neighbors

this train cannot stop

planet’s sixth mass extinction

is well underway

my fellow lemmings,

staring into the abyss,

let’s pay attention

Image source unknown

MY BUCKET LIST

yup, been there, done that

I have sailed Earth’s seven seas

I’ve climbed Rockies’ peaks

untold adventures

fill memory’s mute pages

life’s been great … still is

old age marches on

contentment replaces thrills

small things bring pleasure

gazing on the bay

admiring other men’s boats

glad they are not mine

my bucket’s been spent

joy and meaning fill my cup

of fresh-brewed haiku

CERTIFIED ADULT

finish high school ✓check

leave home ✓check. get a job ✓check

get married (once) ✓check

have a kid (next) ✓check

markers of adulthood reached

yup, been there, done that*

I’m a grown-up now

competence, wisdom achieved

all by age thirty

what’s this nagging angst?

imposter syndrome’s lurking

can you see through me?

one final marker:

in old age, let it go ✓check

I am what I am

*Not exactly my life story

BE HERE NOW *

just let myself Be

watching my eye watch itself

seek no higher goal

my sole place in space

non-bordered ever-presence

let myself be Here

this moment is real

future’s not yet, past is spent

let myself be Now

“don’t push the river,

it will flow all by itself”*

I’m only flotsam

I don’t drive this boat

a passenger on life’s trip

along for the ride

* Thanks to Ram Dass for the iconic title, and to Gestalt therapist Barry Stevens for the metaphor

(HOW TO) BE HERE NOW

Zen’s classic dictum

slips through comprehension’s grasp

how to Be Here Now?

sun’s lush evening glow

nature’s splendor before me

Here’s savory feast!

but mind flits away

stale souvenirs distract me

Now’s warm dish grows cold

this luscious moment

spoils untasted on the vine

a pearl before swine

this fading sunset’s

opportunity wasted

arch-goal: Be Here Now

MISPLACED GRIEF

when I die, I’ll cease

no missed bucket-list regrets

just pure nothingness

I’m not who will grieve

you may mourn your loss of me,

a hole in your heart

culture’s trite last rite,

my funeral’s not for me

I will not be there

celebrate my life

it’s been a hell of a ride

then, get on with yours

I’ll drink life’s last drop,

but if the end’s too bitter,

please pass the hemlock

FIVE SECONDS LEFT TO LIVE

five seconds to live

asleep, the usual dreams

not a care, all’s well

four seconds to live

I’m falling! … is this a dream?

panic jolts slumber

three seconds to live

deafening roar, chaos whelms

what is happening?

two seconds to live

no! this can’t be real! stop! help!

is this how I die?

one second to live

final breath crushed from my chest

death’s abyss … the end

Photo: Condo collapse, Surfside, Florida, 24 July 2021, 1:30 a.m. (CNN)

VOICE OF A NULLED CHILD

I was contraceived

spared a life of misery

I’ll not beget more

poor Yoruba girl

forced by husband to submit

deprived of due choice

she dreamed of freedom,

schooling, opportunity

her stolen birthright

my nulled progeny

myriad unchosen lives

preempted today

a million years hence

endless cycle averted

thank you, Pathfinder*

*Pathfinder International, an NGO providing women’s health and contraceptive resources. Photo: Africa on-line

POOR MAN’S PHILANTHROPY

man of modest means

product of life’s lucky breaks

seeks most bang for buck

how to donate well?

goal: prevent unwanted births

give women control

serves mom and non-child

non-birth brings non-suffering

now and forever

long-view moral stance:

save future generations

from unchosen lives

antinatalist

ethical philosophy

clearly, greater good

Image source: etsy

THE JOY OF NIHILISM

I will write haiku

I’ll vote, pay tax, obey laws

be kind to others

some things I can’t change

like future of planet Earth

and that death will come

some will know I lived

my dust will return to dust

legacies die, too

meanwhile, here I am

observing my existence

in thrall to my awe

I’ll accept, not fight

surrender my will to fate

be. here. now. in peace

IT IS WHAT IT IS

a lifetime of gems

assayed as worthless pebbles

can’t take them with me

my elders’ wisdom

gone to their final abyss

priceless wealth unspent

young ones so busy

tending their vital concerns

as I, in my day

wishing I knew then

a smidge of what I know now

life’s costly lessons

now it’s my damn turn

generations cycle ‘round

it is what it is

AUTOBIOGRAPHY

I was born, I’ll die

meanwhile, stuff is going on

and will continue

haiku tell my tale

snippets of chance, mind-glimpses,

snapshots of being

I’ll live ’till I don’t

in awe of my existence

mere speck in fate’s scheme

this life will soon fade

descendants will know little

but my name and dates

must go “be here now”

thanks for your kind attention

I have things to do

LIFE: THE MOVIE

what a hell of a show!

director’s chair? – nope, just watch

seems almost real, eh?

laugh at comic bits

suspense … what’ll happen next?

weep in tragic scenes

take a seat, my friend

relax, it’s not about us

let’s watch together

que será, será

whatever will be, will be

will be fun to see

far-future is known:

red sun will vaporize Earth

meanwhile, share popcorn

Inspired by comedian-philosopher George Carlin (1937-2008)

GO GENTLE

quoth the young poet:

“rage, rage against the dying

of the light” – not yet!

not for me, I think

– I’ll marvel in that moment,

what a trip I’ve had!

mindful of my mind,

thinking thoughts about this thought,

watching myself live

as life’s road dead-ends,

I’ll savor final moments,

drifting into void,

I intend to go

“gentle into that good night”

I was here … that’s all

Dylan Thomas (1914-1953), Dylan Thomas Centre If I had faced death by age 39, I, too, may have raged.

MEANWHILE

closer to life’s end

than to its brash beginning

I watch world’s decline

at an odd remove

as if from a mountaintop

through rose-colored lens

aaah, but you young ones

and those zillions to follow

my heart bleeds, helpless

what will beset you?

what torment will you endure?

what fate will snare you?

meanwhile, life is good

I’ve lived in charmed time and place

I Rest In Peace … now

JIM’S LAST GIFT

he reached out to me

final-exit day nearing

to bid me farewell

I admire him so

slippery slope’s risk foreseen

clear-eyed courage plain

choice was his to make

remaining time’s worth appraised

such is Reason’s realm

a life fully lived

left this world a better place

dignity enshrined

Jim’s last gift to me:

priceless light on road ahead

thank you, my wise friend

Photo source: freeart

MACK’S VISION

my sage age-peer friend

worried five decades ago,

foresaw grim future

war, poverty, strife,

environment’s grim decline,

America’s end

no child should suffer,

generations yet unborn

fatherhood? opt out?

Mack’s wife had her dream:

family life, happy home

optimism reigned

“selfish genes” prevailed

Mack’s fate’s fixed, progeny sure

… grandfather of four

Image source: shutterstock

THIN SILVER LINING

early death pains us

surviving loved ones grieve loss

a life foreshortened

thin silver lining:

no generations ensue

countless lives unlived

progeny spared harm

no war, misery, torment

-- taking the long view

pleasure warrants pain?

antinatalists cast doubt

better not to live?

for fortunate few

tiny fraction of the whole

good outweighs the bad

CHICXULUB ASTEROID IMPACT

bad day for Earth-life

sixty million years ago

extinction event

six-mile-wide space rock

forty thousand miles per hour

Yucatan got thwacked

global firestorms raged

tough birds, wee mammals eked out

evolution worked

big dinos perished

only pre-chickens survived

and our parent shrews

lucky us, or not?

antinatalists dissent

our demise on deck

Image source: pixabay

ON ANTINATALISM

we seldom ask why

life’s bowl of tasty cherries

enjoyed by so few

pain exceeds pleasure

world’s balance sheet’s unbalanced

ask evil’s victims

animal cousins

suffered eons of trauma

death-by-predator

evolution’s tool

will-to-live serves genes’ success

not pleasure of life

ethicists debate

common consensus can err

paradigms can shift

Image: Ethical humanism symbol

PANDEMIC

2020

existential year

pressing us to prune meaning

from its stark vastness

a pinhole of life

lush verdant complexity

one glimpse at a time

unmask hidden joys

in the leaded gray cloudscape

of collective grief

find strength or perish

trust Blind Instinct to survive

Victor Frankl did

Covid’s simple quiz

each day’s choice to live or die

I’ll say Yes to Life

Phrasings inspired by Maria Popova in Brain Pickings

Victor Frankl revisiting Auschwitz (source: Victor Frankl Institute, Vienna)

BON VOYAGE

we’re a cruising team

crossing fierce Pandemic Sea

each other’s first mate

rising every morn

navigating through each day

’til our goodnight kiss

we share the tiller

steering clear of rocky shoals

and Covid’s dark reef

yon fog-shrouded shore

who can know this journey’s end?

we bid bon voyage

dear co-traveler

quarantine’s sweet companion

let’s sail on, my love

Dedication for Songs of the Pandemic (January 2021)

THANK YOU FOR WORKING

to the check-out clerk

at your local grocery,

paid minimum wage

to the stressed server

at your favorite café,

who must keep smiling

to the clinic nurse

who’s braving the pandemic

and is exhausted

to the poll worker

who makes democracy work,

despite all the risks

with our masks in place

let’s remember to say

“thank you for working”

Image source: Supermarket News

THE CRIME OF KILLING TIME

quarantine fillers

empty tasks, devoid of worth

staving off boredom

life’s stark finitude

nonrenewable resource

spent one day per day

youth’s bottomless cup

unconcerned for careless spills

blinded by plenty

elders’ clearer sight

murky depth comes into view

we savor each drop

harking once-full cup

heeding crime of killing time

I sip slowly now

I FORGOT MY MASK

store clerk refused me

hurried to buy milk and bread

but forgot my mask

doffed my Calvin Kleins

emergency solution

clerk now lets me in

other rushed patrons

same awkward plight as my own

innovation works

lady’s bra filled in

dad donned his baby’s diaper

man stuffed dirty sock

pandemic lesson

the moral of this story:

don’t forget your mask!

Image source: unidentified video clip

PANDEMIC ON THE SERENGETI

Saruni’s village

Serengeti’s ancient plain

Covid hunts Maasai

masters of the wild

boffins of bush predators

virus threatens now

cattle’s meat, blood, milk

victims of climate-change drought

rice, beans, maize replace

new normal befalls

social distance warps culture

masks disguise anguish

no pandemic deaths*

peaceful people on defense

for millennia

* As of 2 November 2020, as reported by Saruni, our friend since 2018 visit to Maasai Mara

Photo credit: Saruni Rolex Kasoe

QUARANTINE CUISINE

lunchroom with a view

magician in the kitchen

quarantine cuisine

lanai herb garden

basil, dill, peppermint farm

home-grown morning tea

sweet potato soup

lawn-kill mangoes in season

vodka ice cream treats

in-house Sunday brunch

New York Times’ spiced brain-fodder

more than I can chew

good fortune befell

golden plate runneth over

so, whence this sour taste?

THIS HAIKU IS ABOUT YOU

you were on my mind

your strong presence stirred my muse

can you find yourself?

you are not named here

but this verse would not exist

if no you in me

have I asked too soon?

years hence this seed may burst forth

you’ll shout, “there I am!”

of course, you’ll wonder

where you’re hidden midst these words

I would love to chat

if not for Covid

we might explore together

I’ll wait, patiently

FINAL MOMENTS

Covid’s victim horde*

enduring final moments

thoughts ebbing, alone

nurse’s tear-wet face

ventilator’s steady beat

light fading to black

I wish you comfort

you were loved by those you loved

your good deeds remain

yielding to abyss

at eternal nothing’s door

pain is near its end

so, this is death, at last?

being loved by those we loved

goodbye to the world

* 5.3 million people have died of COVID-19 worldwide as of 31 December 2021 (CNN and other sources)

Image credit: World Magazine

MY RACE AGAINST TIME

this healthy old guy

should survive corona bug

but still, there’s a chance

this haiku e-book

may be final legacy

if finished in time

we social-distance

we face-mask responsibly

our friend-pod is small

rushing to complete

deliver to publisher

before fate strikes me

Florida hotspot

not best place to be right now*

I race against time

* Composed 28 July 2020

QUARANTINE COIFFURE

calling all trimmers

PPE emergency!

essential hardware

beard tools called topside

why groom retired balding pates?

no meetings this month!

barber poles quit spin

hair-cutters seek new careers

blacksmiths’ fate reprised

hair-care budgets slashed

redefining “self-made man”

strut our bold fashion

COVID coif’s new scene

move over, Vidal Sassoon

buzz cut’s movin’ in

COMET COVID

virus strikes the Earth

asteroid crash from within

impact felt worldwide

social smithereens

economic A-bomb blast

global tsunami

throngs drown in deep grief

species OK, not persons

our own fates await

Divided States heals?

political gash sutured?

will patient survive?

innovations surge

togetherness finds a way

we can only hope

Photo: Scientific American (meteorite entering atmosphere)

EPIDEMIOLOGY

nation of experts

epidemiologists

learning pandemics

Professor Fauci

America’s top guru

teaching us daily

trillions of wee germs

exchanged in conversation

sight unseen … who knew!

air- and surface-borne

hand-washing, facemask-wearing

death lurks on doorknobs

we know it all now

are you ready for the quiz?

pass the course … or die

Dr. Anthony Fauci (source: niaid.nih.gov)

INTROVERTS UNITE!

it’s tiresome, I’m told

in coronavirus times

to self-quarantine

social-distancing

violates primal instinct:

craving party scenes

we introverts smile

relishing our quiet days

savoring calm space

shall we all unite?

create a fraternity?

join in common bond?

or, read long-shelved books

or, binge on Netflix movies?

or, write a haiku?

Image source unknown

INVISIBLE ENEMY

those sneaky bastards

droplets of viral mucus

hiding in plain sight

on ev’ry surface

feigning guileless innocence

awaiting my hand

wily Trojan horse

breaching porous defenses

probing for portals

hijacking my cells

then wreaking bloody havoc

waging bio-war

an organism

mutating, reproducing

just like us humans

Image source: Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

BC

aaah, those olden days

Before Coronavirus

when life was unspoiled

friend A had a job

friend B had plump piggy bank

friend C could dine out

friend D could shake hands

friend E could meet luncheon groups

friend F planned a cruise

friend G could fly home

we could watch graduation

we could see grandkids

life back to normal

After Coronavirus?

can’t wait to hug you

Photo credit: Jane Goodall Institute

THE BLACK SWAN HAS LANDED

Tranquility Base –

bomb shocks peaceful agora

left field’s sneak attack

friends lose livelihoods

neighbors’ fragile nest eggs crack,

elders dread death’s call

dim new normal dawns

surreal world supplants the old

fog lifts at crash scene

reframe this picture

lucky, compared to Earth-mates

think of Syrians

pandemic’s lesson:

no woulda-coulda-shoulda

this phoenix shall rise

Image source: moneymorning

SELF-QUARANTINE REPORT

in paired confinement

conjugal imprisonment

our luxury jail

two-bedroom, two-bath

internet, cable TV

all comforts of home

great view of the bay

pantry stocked for life sentence

vintage dinner wines

daily walks allowed

sunset movie every night

introverts’ delight!

serving our hard time

hands washed, safe social distance

could be worse … much worse

CORONAVIRUS

millennium’s plague?

pothole in life’s long highway?

uncertainty weighs

existential threat?

end of life as we’ve known it?

apocalypse now?

China’s supply chained

globe’s economy flat-lined

retail’s belly-up

Wall Street thinks it knows

lemmings follow off the cliff?

or, crowd’s wisdom wins?

extend staycation

mask face, keep social distance

invest in Netflix

Image: Electron micrograph of COVID-19 (University of Hong Kong, 2020)

THE ART OF HAIKU

WHY I WRITE

I was born alone

who am I? and who are you?

I will die alone

in-between, I yearn

my hungry newborn blank slate

craves to be inscribed

I dig for life’s gems

you-in-me’s and me-in-you’s

nuggets of fool’s gold

my haiku implore:

here am I, do you see me?

do my words join us?

art soothes gnawing ache,

existential solitude

… am I still alone?

ENGLISH IS BEST FOR HAIKU

Spanish beats for rhyme

but English wins for nuance:

no lingual taproot

we’re a shameless sponge

absorbing invaders’ tongues

since Neanderthals:

Celts, Angles, Saxons,

Romans, Danes, Jutes, Normans, Dutch

… Greek-Latin mélange

our tasty fusion

blends conquerors’ words’ flavors,

baked in this quintet

far beyond Europe,

Japanese lends us “haiku”

which proves my point, eh?

A BOUQUET OF SENSES*

synonyms abound

for anglophone composers,

how our garden grows!

… meaning, nuance, tone,

denotation, intention,

gist, thrust, drift, message …

wordsmiths pick with care,

authors seek sweetest fragrance,

poets inspire blooms

invaders’ plantings

forested England’s home tongue’s

bouquet of senses

from seeds sown worldwide

by colonial navies,

this haiku now sprouts

FLIGHT OF THE HAIKU

gray poet’s frail wings

hefting stones of lofty words

hopeful ode lifts off

rare air beckons me

from this vapid tiresome plain

to soar with Lincoln

whose better angels

plumbed our nature’s murky depths

finding lyric grace

Icarus’ hubris:

“fate be damned, my art shall soar

to heavenly heights!”

at fifth stanza’s door

my flight of fancy falters

this haiku has crashed

Image credit: Wikipedia

BICENTENARY

how to celebrate

two-hundredth haiku quintet?

a toast of bubbly?

a bouquet of verse?

a couplet of metaphors?

a sonnet of rhymes?

a hundred meters?

one onomatopoeia?

five stanzas of hymns?

seven syllables?

a word salad of nonsense?

a haiku quintet?

there’s no poetry

to mark this unique milepost

I’ll just write one more*

* This is it, the 200th haiku quintet I have written since 9 September 2019.

My grandson wordsmithing in 2002

TO GROW A HAIKU

countless seeds each day

an odd brain-drop falls by chance

triggers haiku’s germ

five-branch stalk builds frame

quintet’s DNA knows all

her species’ template

fifteen green twigs sprout

I prune her youthful ardor

sculpting her toward art

like human sisters

each one’s a special creature

the same, yet unique

on reaching full height

her morphology unveils

her crowning flower

Image source: Wayfair

THE PERILS OF HAIKU

early morning spoon

my arm wraps your hand-cupped flesh

no sound but breathing

your dawn-glinted hair

our snug body-melt sandwich

puppies in a box

like aching beauty

of fading, dying sunset

permanence denied

sleep-washed brain cells stir

this perfect moment disturbed

words disrupt my peace

restless, twitching mind

wrests me from sweet partnered bliss

to write this haiku

HAIKU HACK

how hard can it be?

seventeen syllables

just three lines of text

like birds on a wire

thanks to gestalt illusion

readers do the rest

fill empty spaces

as we strain to understand

what’s not really there

nonsense words make sense

in hungry dissonant minds

therein lies the art

toss a word salad

of random ingredients

then see how it tastes

Image credit: The Inspired Eye

A STUDY IN METAPHOR

art is metaphor

metaphorically speaking

real-world’s symbols

bridge to tomorrow

window into my psyche

the light of my life

pan wisdom’s nuggets

from poetic river-sands

paydirt for your toil

“literal art”* but

oxymoronic non-art

brain-numbing twaddle

art’s swirling snows spawn

blizzards of deft decoding

if you get my drift

* The term “literal art” has a distinct meaning in the visual arts, different from its usage here as the opposite of figurative metaphor in poetry.

MOULTING ART

well, they’ve flown the coup

newly hatched haiku nestlings

cast into the void

fled my clinging grasp

released to uncertain care

are they safe with you?

in your feathered nest

my words chirp your melody

your ear hears your song

haiku’s moulting yolk

hatches fresh in next scribe’s egg

‘twas never just mine

art’s lifecycle turns

the old morphs into the new

then old once again

Image source: incubatorwarehouse

WRITING BETWEEN THE LINES

what is poetry

but writing between the lines

leaving much unsaid?

haiku left hungry

strict diet of syllables

craving just one more

but limits stand firm

unforgiving discipline

no mid-line nibbles

here, hidden secrets

there, dark forbidden desires

where may they be found?

this svelte, slender verse

forsook those fattening words

they’re between the lines

JOAN DIDION

1934 - 2021

like a blue painter

of gray California dreams

on storied canvas

like a rainbow trout

gliding ‘neath translucent ice

watching our shoe-soles

like a muscle man

reading Roth on Venice Beach

as tidal wave hits

like a suntanned girl

nursing a Virginia Slim

trying to look cool

all in a language

I wrongly thought I write well

you take me away

Photo credit: New York Times

85 SYLLABLES

my small canvas strains

to hold all I want to say

stuffed full of meaning

this word or that one?

each perplexing selection

my thesaurus knows

no room for nuance

must color between the lines

childhood’s hard lesson

conciseness: virtue

wordiness: lavish buffet

I’m on a diet

good things often come

tightly wrapped, densely arranged

in small packages

WHO WRITES THIS STUFF?

haiku write themselves

I just prune unruly sprigs

like Dylan’s lyrics

images emerge

through thick murky mist, slowly

or in blinding flash

some deeper meaning?

weird metaphysics at play?

not for me to say

speaking silently

ephemeral muse unveils

tossing me choice bits

I take dictation

rushing to jot down her words

must start pruning now …

Image: Private art purchased from a Mexican street vendor

THE CRAFT

what’s a “good” haiku?

eighty-five packed syllables

traditions forsworn

new art form, old roots

resonate, wonder, feel, think:

my craft’s sole intents

keenly picked word-bricks

raise an artful edifice:

house of sapiens

shaped to form one’s mold,

“good”-ness resists our measure,

yet meaning’s fog clears

reader peers inward

introspects subconscious self

who am I? and you?

Image: M. C. Escher, Drawing Hands (Source: mutualart)

ODE TO PABLO NERUDA’S ODE

read aloud, I learned

about socks and poetry,

lyric metaphor

my friend Penny saw

a nexus not seen myself

socks ode spawns haiku:

soft as twilight threads

knitted in one mad impulse

weaving sacred text

born in coarse raw wool

fed birdseed, it grows, smoothing

to fit golden cage

trying on for size,

moral of my ode is this:

your socks warm my art

Inspired by “Ode to My Socks” by Pablo Neruda (1904-1973)

Image source: poetryfoundation

UNPOETIC POETRY

I’m wondering now

about these haiku quintets

… are they poetry?

art’s usual task:

imagining, emoting,

kindling fresh visions

old teacher’s habit:

mind-tripping on theory,

at expense of art?

friend, be my frank judge …

does author’s self-indulgence

fail readers’ liking?

who’s my audience?

if myself, a happy clam

if you, not so sure

Image source: dreamstime

MY HAIKU MACHINE IS BROKEN

my muse is AWOL

her guile’s nowhere to be found

she left me thoughtless

I’m window-gazing

upon Sarasota Bay

all I see is boats

no blazing insights,

no breathtaking metaphors

nothing but what’s there

ordinary world

usual blameless suspects

artful words escaped

but wait! was that her?

or just a breeze-blown mind-tease?

where-oh-where is she?

LYRICAL SCIENCE

colossal questions

species contemplates itself

clumps of brambled thoughts

fathomless cosmos

bone-cave atop our shoulders

how matter made mind

nature’s timeless laws

science: tamed metaphysics

grace of random chance

knowing’s single stream

from bacteria to Bach,

life’s crawl from the sea

ephemeral lives,

perishable miracle

death cuts time’s arrow

Inspired by phrasings in Maria Popova’s review of physicist Brian Greene’s Until the End of Time

Image source: wordlife

BRUSHSTROKES IN THE SKY

still life or movie?

colors fade, dark replaces

I’ll watch to its end

swept right or swept left,

each artist fashions her coda

slippery slope’s edge

silent dusk descends

fallen tree on forest floor

I hear, I am here

time saved and time spent

fast and slow, life pulses by

watched or not, clock ticks

darkness, too, lights me

passing my time in real time

still life, or movie?

PHOTOGRAPHIC ART

this image answers:

is photography “real” art

if not made by hand?

not simply data

in raw objective display,

its beauty whelms

it conjures feelings,

delight, curiosity,

stirs our humanness

my haiku study

of art’s myriad platforms

advances one step

if my puny words

could reach this photo’s power,

I’d be an artist

Photo: Annular eclipse (Joshua Cripps Photography), by permission

THE NOVEL

oddly Grisham-like

picture’s worth a thousand words

mystery haiku

characters, setting,

plot, problem, and solution

each element’s here

one plus one is three

check assumptions at the door

think outside the box

twists, turns, teases, ties

corn maze leads astray

beware cul-de-sacs

look and read again

polyglot reader might solve

… the end. whodunit?

July 1, 2000: Your ordinary wedding pic? Notice anything suspicious?

ABSURDIST HAIKU

purple is perfect

yellow water drips pure green

bridge rises from blue

high skies confuse me

stars convert heathens to Zen

sailboats float upward

dolphins love music

but amber fish prefer blondes

black cats and dogs fight

numbers don’t add up

unless multiplied by pi

then we find answers

mind fills in the gaps

absurdity makes no sense

… but did you find some?

Image derived from The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus

Source: theconversation

SMORGASBORD OF THE MIND

scribes munch together:

authors, novelists, poets,

the odd haikuist

word-nerd gathering

day jobs done, minds still cooking

write, read, speak, repeat

scribblers serve their dish

steamed, grilled, poached, stir-fried, half-baked

all creations cheered

word salad welcome

creativity simmers

in scrivener’s kitchen

nourishing mind-snacks

savory monthly menu

let the feast resume!

Inspired by Aroon Chaddha and fellow LWR Scribes

Image source: dinnerisserved1972

NATURAL ART

deliberate piece

made by human hands, I’m told,

is all art can be?

what of this rainbow?

breeze whispering through tall pines?

waves lapping ashore?

angelic rose scent?

fresh-picked apple’s godly taste?

nature’s creations

what part plays beauty?

paint-drop splatter on canvas?

art-ness escapes me

what of artful words?

spawning beauty in mind’s eye

what of this haiku?

FOR WHOM THE ART TROLLS

questing after truth

what’s this ageless human deed?

who defines “good” art?

friend one, her career,

commerce demands daily bread

buyer is her judge

friend two, art’s staunch mate

companion in times of need

no judge but one’s self

friend three seeks ideal

strains for abstract perfection

Plato would approve

words are my canvas

cathartic creative rush

its own rich reward

IS THIS ART?

shaping artful words,

painting meaning, sculpting sense,

drawing conclusions

music, painting, dance,

drama, sculpture, fiction, film:

what through-line links all?

haiku, my new form:

verbal impressionism

by curious words

blurry aesthetics

what is beauty if not art?

art without beauty?

what am I doing?

if art, tell me, those who know

meanwhile, I persist

SKETCHES IN HAIKU

olde, but new to me

experimental art form

so, what have we here?

morning words work best

sunrise brain, rich soil to till

seven o’clock, now

quintet mutation:

beginning, middle, ending

unfolding story

first flower fades fast

cultivate for hours, days

curb haste to harvest

this one’s nearly done

it’s been a fun morning chat

thank you, dear reader

DAUGHTER OF BASHO *

I, son of Basho,

three-hundred-fifty years hence

haiku breathing still

his days long bygone

mine past his imagining

distant time, strange land

daughter of Basho

three-hundred-fifty more hence:

wordsmith of haiku

her days far beyond

my own dim imagining

future thickly veiled

yon distant lands, times

generations beyond count

will haiku breathe still?

* Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), recognized greatest master of haiku

Image created by Katsushika Hokusai

HAIKU OR NOT HAIKU?

experimenting

corrupting an ancient art

Basho having cow?

guardrails in word-art

poetry: rhythm and rhyme,

alliteration

nonesuch here, I find

but one rail constrains word choice:

count these syllables

novel quintet form

a variant with new rails

lets story unfold

word-play, nothing more

harmless diversion in art

Basho rolls in grave

Matsuo Basho, image source unknown

SCIENCE AND SECULARISM

BERTRAND RUSSELL (1872-1970)

your words set me free

scales fell from wide teen-age eyes

young life’s course re-set

superstitions foiled

country church’s hold released

dogma’s chains broken

freethought flowed undammed

birthed secular humanism’s

sensible worldview

these sixty years hence

pondering the Universe

my life’s shaped by yours

your book filled its task

enriched life beyond measure

thank you, Lord Russell

Photo: Original copy of the book that changed my life in 1961

HOLIDAY HAIKU

hail, winter solstice!

northern earthlings’ shortest day,

axis’ greatest tilt

let us celebrate

our Neolithic forebears’

Sun God’s next rebirth

Stonehenge pagans’ rites

or Saturnalia’s heirs

… pick your tradition:

Hanukkah, Christmas,

Alban Arthan, Korochun,

“holy” Festivus …

or, join together

as secular humanists,

be kind and have fun!

Solstice sunset,12/21/2020, Sarasota, Florida

A DATE IN SPACETIME

“yes, let’s have lunch soon!”

“how about Einstein’s Cafe?”

“is noon Monday good?”

a flat map shows where

gravity keeps us grounded,

our clocks are in sync

so, we have a date?

but, just here in Newton’s world,

mere slice of spacetime

if we near light-speed,

if a massive orb warps space,

we’ll miss our stardate

a gravity well

could draw us in a black hole

“I’ll see you Monday!”

Image source: Saint Mary’s Physics Demos

CELEBRATING WINTER SOLSTICE

happy Solstice, friends

enjoy winter holidays

longer days coming!

Christmas, Festivus,

Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, Lohri

mother of them all

northern hemisphere

home of most faiths’ inventors

holy books’ authors

magical thinking

ancients’ attempts to make sense

hardy myths persist

Earth’s axial tilt

from solar orbital plane

is magic enough!

Image source: Wikipedia (Stonehenge)

LUCKY PLANET MARS

if all Earth’s sentience

in one merciful instant

blinked out, no warning:

no more hunger, pain

no war, torture, mother’s grief

no child’s helpless cries

no shooter’s hate crimes

no victim’s scream of terror

no predator’s bite

what pleasures and joys

of life’s lottery winners

should warrant such hell?

cancel life’s blueprint

antinatalists’ vision:

lucky planet Mars

The enviably lifeless surface of Mars (Photo: NASA)

OUR PHYLUM’S CASTE SYSTEM

this vast common ground

our lower caste cousins share

all mammal kinfolk

all eat, drink, scratch, play

our carnal needs frustrate, sate

all pee, poop, nest, sleep

our tribe hides in clothes

boasting pompous pretentions

of upper caste rank

all feel pain, fear, love

their emotions mirror ours,

yet we torture them

may kindness bridge caste

phylum’s godless humanists

live the Golden Rule

Given that natural selection is an immutable feature of speciation, carnivores must be granted a waiver from the Golden Rule. Human omnivores, uniquely, have a moral choice. Many non-vegans, such as the author, lamely lament that our food-animals are treated so tortuously.

Image source: Pinterest

STRATEGIC RETREAT

the sky has fallen

floods doom coastal folk, fires rage

pick your disaster

fatally wounded

we’ve shot ourselves in the foot

with tech’s awesome tools

anthropocene’s deeds

brought on sixth mass extinction

nature’s harsh payback

there’s no Planet B

Earth’s apocalypse draws nigh

what to do, humans?

just one path remains

at Sisyphus’ final fail:

strategic retreat*

* A military term applied by futurist David Houle to the “battle” against climate change

Photo source: NASA, Earthrise from moon

YOU ARE MY AFTERLIFE

my atoms will roam

join other earth-bound life forms:

mouse, bird, fish, worm, weed

as dad, my genes will

walk, talk, think, feel, reproduce

keeping human form

my molecules float

in air until Earth’s days end

five billion years hence

Sun’s sons go nova

generations of star-stuff

I’m galaxy-wide

as teacher-writer

some wise bits may carry on

perhaps this haiku?

Image source: cremationurns

HUMANISTS

we care for people

in their natural lifetimes

we’re good without gods

blind faith cannot see

ancient myths’ brain-fog obscures

the plain facts of life

inconvenient truth:

creation and afterlife

pre-science fake news

we’re born, then we die

savor this one awesome trip

smell the sweet roses

enroute, please be kind

love our fellow passengers

aboard this frail boat

Photo source: loupiote

IS ATHEISM A FAITH?

is atheism

a belief system like those

we call religions?

if no evidence,

is not believing belief,

or simply reason?

is end of living

your afterlife’s beginning

if nothing happens?

can not lifting weights

be your daily exercise,

or just self-deceit?

I have a hobby … *

not collecting foreign stamps,

hours of pleasure

* Inspired by a joke by comedian Ricky Gervais

DARWIN DAY

COVID’s on the hunt

evolution’s not done yet

hide behind your mask

nature’s famous law:

“survival of the fittest”

stay alert, humans!

our tasty bits tempt

hungry predator wants more

she can’t eat just one

wily genes mutate

natural selection works

Darwin showed us how

seek gods’ protection?

or seek knowledge through science?

nothing fails like prayer

Composed in celebration of Darwin Day for Humanists of Sarasota Bay, February 10, 2021

WHENCE REALITY?

how come existence?

the ultimate mystery

yet, we’re here to ask

something from nothing?

why not just blank empty space?

or not even that?

if god, then whence god?

prescience mystics conjured

a “super”-nature?

whence mathematics?

numbers without universe

if nothing to count?

no answers quench thirst,

so why ask vexing questions?

just wondering, awed

MATH = NATURE?

pi, Fibonacci,

Einstein’s relativity:

purely abstract math

can broccoli count?

nature’s patterns show themselves

chicken-egg puzzle

Neptune spied by math

before earthly telescope

orbit computed

must math fit nature?

vice versa? coincidence?

prescribes or describes?

nature’s core essence

Magical Mystery Tour

how can this exist?

Image source: wired

UNIVERSE

ultra-deep field view

finds ten thousand galaxies

through one drinking straw

Hubble plumbs spacetime

thirteen billion lightyears yon

Webb will see further

probing past’s extremes

genesis of all we know

Big Bang’s daddy?

my words fail this task

cosmic scale eludes vision

unthinkably vast

ours one of many?

an infinite multiverse?

my small mind is blown

Ultra Deep Field, Hubble Space Telescope, NASA

THAT’S THE MYSTERY

above sea level

Bronx to DC, space station

circling overhead

weekend jaunt to moon

eight-light-minute sunbeam dawns

photons touch my skin

next-door neighbor nears

Andromeda’s stars join ours

two galaxies merge

fourteen billion years

Hubble probes spacetime’s frontier

scale defies my grasp

mind’s eye’s overwhelmed

why am I compelled to try?

that’s the mystery!

Inset image: Most distant object ever seen (as of 2020). The light we see today left that galaxy 13.4 billion years ago. Due to continuing expansion of the universe, it is now 32.1 billion light-years from Earth, and may now be a spiral galaxy like our Milky Way. Light travels 186,000 miles per second, i.e., one light-second.

COSMIC BOUNDARIES

after end of time,

before beginning of time,

beyond edge of space

what’s on other side?

Big Bang launched this universe

what was here before?

nonsense questions, these?

human scale fails to answer

need more dimensions

“empty” space expands

quantum scale’s “spooky action”

math sees more than scopes

reality’s bounds

exceed imagination

science peeks beyond

Image source: NASA

EDGE OF THE UNIVERSE

straight line forever?

or, sphere’s unbounded surface

in four dimensions?

Einstein scaled new heights:

dark matter, dark energy,

spacetime’s curve toward mass

space booms since Big Bang

ever-accelerating

faster than light-speed

“edge” not border wall

nothing visible beyond

edge of time, not space

unlike universe,

this haiku’s not infinite

I’ve reached the edge now

Artist’s rendering of the observable universe on logarithmic (inverse exponential) scale (source: futurism)

PONDERING INFINITY

“here” lies in-between

multiverse and quantum world:

uber-cosmic scale

“now” spans life’s sojourn,

Big Bang to eternity:

time’s unsure end-points

human mind flummoxed

infinity eludes grasp

limitless spacetime

my puny brain fails

marveling in wonderment

in fleeting glimpses

magical thinking

invents SUPERnatural

this is all there is

GRAVITY MAKES THINGS ROUND

stars, planets, large moons,

massive objects throughout space:

near-perfect spheres … how?

landslides avalanche

water runs only downhill

Alps erode in time

neutron stars’ surface

“mountains” not one atom high

all protrusions crushed

gravity pulls in

equal pushback by fusion

round is the balance

our preening planet

always smoothing its pimples

galactic Botox

Photo source: NASA

COSMIC NEW YEAR

one solar round trip:

two pi times Earth-Sun distance

back home? … no, Sun moved

Earth’s orbital gait:

thirty thousand miles per hour

speed kills, police warn

Milky Way rotates:

Sun orbits black hole center

last year’s home’s long gone

galaxy moves, too

nothing stays where we left it

permanence is myth

enjoy this wild ride

home is today … be. here. now.

New Year’s cheer, Earthlings!

Photo: M81 galaxy (similar to Milky Way) by Hubble Space Telescope

SATURN

sixth orb from our star

icy rings of primal stuff

ancient poets’ muse

Cassini’s close-up shot

why beauty to human eye?

lush charm on display

spacetime’s curve draws in

solar vortex rules its path,

if Einstein was right

rocky core within?

or massive diamond jewel?

(just carbon, like us)

orbiting globes swarm

vast cosmos of twinkling suns

could we be alone?

Photo by Cassini spacecraft orbiting Saturn – note the planet’s shadow on its rings, indicating the direction of the sun and nearby Earth.

WATER

thank you, H20

the molecule that built us

waterworld, our home

this fresh drink I drink

a comet, once upon a time

after moon broke off

sun’s Goldilocks zone

squeezed between vapor and ice

life’s possible here

Sagan’s “pale blue dot”

wet droplet floating in space

rare, but not unique

marvelous good luck?

able to think thoughts like this

but at cost of war

Photo of Earth (find the “pale blue dot” in the vertical band) from 3.7 billion miles by Voyager 1 space probe, 1990

SUPERMOON

good new day, old friend

Monday morning supermoon

so near, yet so far

since ancients looked up

wondered, what is it? how far?

early wise men stumped

Mother Moon stays moored

Father Sun’s steadfast partner

poets’ crescent muse

mysteries unsolved

millennia’s gnawing awe,

mind’s thirst left unquenched

Moon’s birth pang now known:

wayward planet tore from Earth

still, this poet’s muse

WE ARE ACCIDENTAL PEOPLE

two million years past

our concestor’s mom conceived

one stout sperm out-swam

bested brother-horde

every human since descends

if other won, who?

what history then?

whole other population,

wars, leaders, prophets

that quirk’s chance result:

what is now would not have been,

strange facts would be true

if alt granddad won

I would not be writing this

nor you reading it

Our grandmother (100,000 generations ago). Fossil reconstruction from likely period of the most recent common ancestor (concestor) of all humans alive today. Source: Houston Museum of Natural Science

LIFE?

natural process

universe’s chemistry

our Earth’s not unique

since three billion years

evolution continues

we’re not its end-point

Goldilocks zones teem

Drake’s equation* calculates

spacetime hosts trillions

Perseverance seeks

autopsy of ancient life

coroner for Mars

to prove to skeptics

sentience finds bio-niches

we are not alone

* The Drake Equation estimates the number of life-forms in the Milky Way and in trillions of other galaxies in the knowable universe.

Selfie of Perseverance Rover on Mars (NASA)

CLIMATE CRISIS

what to do, Earth-mates?

sacrifice for those to come?

hoard for those here now?

postpone certain doom?

New York, Shanghai sink

existential risk

mass migrations pend

famine, war, disease, typhoons

lucky(?) ones survive

can globe decide, act,

meet superordinate need?

history says no

Venus’ fate, or Mars’?

antinatalists’ dreamworld:

lifeless planet Earth

Photo: Surface of Mars (NASA)

FIRST GOD

Sarasota sun

same shone on our ancient ones’

first wondering minds

seven million years

who first pondered mystery?

what is it? who knows?

gives us light, warmth, time

no science, yet, to know facts,

so, we made stuff up

humans need belief

myths fill yawning hungry void

hence, god-of-the-gap

now, we know stars’ truth

but still worship Father Sun

or some offspring son

ON DYING

as life leaves this eye

what will I say to myself?

will someone hear me?

to Mother Cosmos

returns borrowed molecules

life has been a trip

such dumb luck at birth!

fate smiled so kindly on me

vastly more than most

I’ll live ‘til I don’t

the day unknowable yet,

but I choose to choose

my life, not others’

until its end comes in view

it’s mine to decide

MY NIGERIAN ATHEIST FRIEND

half a world away

near-neighbors in cyberspace

he must hide his truth

wife, friends, family

die-hard zealots of dogma

religionists all

God’s set men seek wealth

streets littered with loud churches

monstrous billboards shout

so many pastors

shrilling mindboggling song-sprees

launch zombie-like trance

African dark zone

be careful, my new-found friend

your words give me hope

Most words above are lifted from his emails to me. He’s the poet. I am his haiku arranger.

Image is a generic silhouette, not his likeness. He must remain anonymous for his safety.

Source: netclipart

MEDIATION

PEACE IS POSSIBLE

conflict’s viral load

burdens our covid-struck land

mediation’s role?

Hungary’s staunch corps

peace-makers till rock-strewn fields

undaunted by drought

change enkindles fear

inequality breeds hate

hardship exhausts hope

*communication*

vital ingredient in

answer’s recipe

we mediators

are called to share our insight:

peace is possible

Composed to support KEMI’s activities in these challenging times.

From left: Susan Dana, Eszter Rodé (interpreter), Dan Dana, Zoltán Németh at Central European Mediation Institute (KEMI), Budapest, Hungary, on the occasion of my public lecture, “Everyday Peacemaking,” 7 July 2019.

POLICE MEDIATION

To Protect and Serve

when couples squabble

is your gun really needed?

or a talking tool?

protesters protest

as Constitution allows

tear gas? pepper spray?

routine traffic stop

car-sleeper, bad check, schoolgirl

or Black man jogging

threat sparks counter-threat

kindness invites more kindness

force spurs counter-force

mediation works

in its several skillsets

use a softer touch

Lead poem for Common Ground: Haiku, Mediation, and Police Reform

Image source: UK Mediation

SIMPLE MAGIC

stay in dialog

resisting tug to withdraw

or to power-play

patience wins the war

risk raises its daring head

above the foxhole

conciliation

as Mother Apology

bravely lifts her veil

me-against-you fades

us-against-it emerges

“we” supersedes “I”

both science and art

mediation’s a life-skill

it’s simple magic

“Simple Magic” was the original working title of the first edition (1988) of Managing Differences, which remains the sourcebook for courses offered by Mediation Training Institute at Eckerd College.

Image source: pinterest

HIDDEN COMMON GROUND

intractable feud?

beneath positions’ hard crust

int’rests underlie

either-or, win-lose

myth of impasse flourishes

false certainty gels

foe plays the partner

dance of conflict, pas de deux

“enemy” disarmed

explore why, not what

unblind shrouded driving needs

unlock assumed cuffs

conflict’s costs abate

relationship’s value gains

think outside the box

Image source: cleanpng

MEDIATION

my career expired

I moved on, task unfinished

seeds deeply planted

life’s aim envisioned

persisted four decades on

fit my nature’s glove

essential process

awaiting breakthrough moment

hardest part: patience

simpler than most think

nearly magic in effect

just do it, be brave

in fresh loam she thrives

new home at Eckerd College

her afterlife bides

Image source: mediationworks.com

DEMOCRACY

IDENTITY PRECEDES IDEOLOGY

my tribe hates your tribe

all right-minded folks agree

you are stupid fools

your tribe hates my tribe

we are effing idiots,

blinded by fake news

you’re on the wrong side

history will prove me right

… my tribe tells me so

where does truth reside?

how can I know that I’m right?

and that you are wrong?

I can’t know, for sure

and neither can you, my friend

let voters decide*

*Assuming free and fair elections, free press, freedom of speech

Image credit: BBC

WATCHING WAR BEGIN

we stand on the bank

of Ukraine’s river of blood

awaiting Putin

his fragile ego

breeds deranged lust to rebuild

Soviet empire

at what human cost?

horrific suffering pays

toxic hubris’ toll

did the sweet scent of

the Orange Revolution

merely stay this stench?

shall evil prevail?

today we know fate’s answer

watching war begin

Screenshot 23 February 2022, minutes after Russia launched attack

MAY WE LONG ENDURE *

this nation conceived

twelve score and five years ago,

we are met again

a new battlefield,

it is for us, the living,

to meet this grave test

a great task remains

before us, this century:

may we long endure?

let us not forget,

in our time’s divided land,

Lincoln’s hopeful words:

government of ALL people,

by ALL people, for ALL people,

shall not perish from the earth.

*Phrasings adapted from Abraham Lincoln’s Gettysburg Address, November 19, 1863

PROMISE UNFULFILLED

a crushed tender stem

heedless footstep’s wee victim

no flower will bloom

a torn, crumpled page

in trash can’s growing clutter

no tale will be told

a promise broken

trust destroyed forevermore

no friendship survives

a vaccine delayed

covid virus scores again

no days left to live

a nation wounded

its golden age fades to rust

no republic kept?*

* Reference: Benjamin Franklin’s rejoinder to a questioner following the 1787 constitutional convention who asked, “What have we got? A republic or a monarchy?” His reply: “A republic, if you can keep it.”

HANGING BY A THREAD

resisting despair

covid, wealth gap, race cleave us

imperfect storm strikes

Q-ism’s ilk festers

gun-armed hate-mongering cults

wage uncivil war

morgue trucks overflow

our state’s blood-soaked levees breach

who dies next? … me? … you?

schism’s vile detritus

what safe-cave avails expats

fleeing Q-Nation?

democracy’s fate?

this noble experiment

hanging by a thread

Photo credit: Time

ELECT WOMEN TO PUBLIC OFFICE

certainty eludes

women and men seek our vote

so, how can we choose?

which better to lead

as stewards of public trust?

what does science say?

man fancies power

seeks status, rank, control, fame

hierarchy calls

woman cares, nurtures

empathy dwells in her core

relationships count

election day’s choice

the moral of this haiku:

vote women to lead!

Image source: Forbes

Science says women may be better leaders by their nature

KAMALA

calm my furrowed brow

give me electoral hope

bring voters in droves

Blacks, Asians, women

identity politics

works for left, this time

existential threat

democracy must be saved

it’s all on the line

Pearl Harbor moment

no compromise with Nazis

scrub QAnon cult

Putin seeks repeat

suppress voter suppression

with Joe, save the world

AFGHAN GIRL

school was your way out

what horrid fate awaits you?

Taliban returns

hope fades from your dreams

your burqa hides your anguish

your unborn goals snuffed

girls’ lives don’t matter

misogyny rules your world

gender apartheid

mosque-state blinds reason

theocrats dictate your rights

Allah’s enforcers

Levant’s ancient myths

God(s)’ most cruel cult prevailed

girls’ tragic bad luck

At the time of this writing, the Taliban was aggressively reestablishing control in Afghanistan following withdrawal of American forces.

Photo credit: DW

THE HILL WE CLIMB

as we grieved, we grew

even as we hurt, we hoped

as we tired, we tried

pride we inherit

that would shatter our nation

rather than share it

has its eyes on us

such a terrifying hour

we found the power

our children’s birthright

will not march back to what was

move to what shall be

from the sunbaked south

new dawn blooms as we free it

we’re brave … to be it

This haiku consists of excerpts from Amanda Gorman’s poem of the same title performed at President Biden’s inauguration, January 20, 2021

Image source: CNN

PLEASE DON’T READ THIS HAIKU

if I never vote

nary one election’s changed

none depend on one

if I don’t eat meat

a lifetime of rice and beans

no life would be spared

as one, I don’t count

as many, we change the world:

stats’ rude paradox

democracy dies

food-animal hordes perish

but civic duty

the moral is clear:

I should not write this haiku,

you should not read it

Image source: quirkybyte

NEW YEAR (2022) PREDICTIONS

forecasting our fate,

worried nation’s conjectures

foretell hopes and fears:

hordes flee flooded coasts?

civil war bleeds our split land?

parched cities go dry?

seawater is tapped?

fossil fuels stay unburned?

renewables found?

unjust wealth gap bridged?

cruel pronatalism reversed?

science defeats myth?

democracy’s hacked?

toxic partisans make us

an ex-republic?

The remaining poems in the “Democracy” section were written prior to the 2020 US election and appeared in the first edition of Haiku Quintets

VOTE!

vote vote vote vote vote

democracy’s on ballot

vote vote vote vote vote

dictatorship is, also

vote vote vote vote vote

myth: “it cannot happen here”

vote vote vote vote vote

not voting is vote for Trump

vote vote vote vote vote

Putin wins without a shot

… did I mention? … VOTE!

Image source: PBS

THE WOLF AND THE SHEEP

wolf and sheep share cage

getting along quite well, now

if not, get new sheep

cabinet members

alphabet agency heads

twitching nervously

knowing the raw score:

careers depend on how low

they bow to the king

White House sycophants’

fifteen minutes of fame/shame

enjoyed while it lasts

counting down their days

sheep may retire to pasture

or share cell with Don?

Image source: shutterstock

EXECUTION BY HUBRIS

she died yesterday

some say the virus did it

Trump’s the real killer

fragile starved ego

valued above public health

devoid of kindness

next victims don’t know

could be you or could be me

who’s in death’s blind queue?

how did we do this?

the best in America?

system failed its task

next election works

or democracy itself

is his next victim

Image source: thepioneeronline

SHRINKING CITY ON A MOLEHILL

“American myth …

anti-intellectual

cult of ignorance

democracy means

my ignorance is as good

as your knowledge” -- quote*

anti-science makes

this banana republic

great again, eh Trump?

rotting from within

shining city on a hill

its sheen fading fast

expats seek true home

as Lady Liberty weeps

Rome fell – inside job

* Isaac Asimov, PhD, professor of biochemistry, writer of science fiction, humanist

THIS DEFINING MOMENT

dire triple threat looms:

virus, finance, politics

unprecedented

old lifestyles crumble

history unrhymes this time?

opaque crystal ball

middle class implodes

careers plunge, newbies take stage

graveyards populate

democracy dies?

inept captain sinks our ship?

election foretells

Brave New World redux

green lifescapes arise from ash

kids tell grandkids … what?

REFUGE IN ART

despairing in news

political train wreck looms

helpless to change course

at my age, all’s well

ah, but tender grandchildren

countless more at risk

what future awaits?

despot reigns, darkness deepens

heartless fascism

nestled with nest-mate

in company of kind friends

I’m a lucky one

but mood needs a lift

I think I’ll write a haiku

take refuge in art

WHY VOTE?

no single voter

ever decides an outcome

empirical fact

I could just stay home

electoral history

would yield same result

one vote matters not

all votes decree our future

paradox of math

prime civic duty:

prevent dictator’s vile rule

voice-and-choice shields us

lost democracy

dooms us subjects of thug-king

that’s why we must vote

AMERICAN EXPAT

Missouri-born lad

Sarasota’s good life fits

homeland’s alien

Trump’s America

in deplorables’ vise grip

… I do not belong

autocracy creeps,

next poll saves democracy?

or, delights Putin?

founders’ dream’s deathwatch

if racist bigots take charge

how could I re-pat?

too old to decamp

grandkids emigrate abroad?

where will they call home?

ANTI-RACISM

LIVED EXPERIENCE

I know what it’s like

to grow up a straight white male

in an intact home

but I do not know

the lived experience of

women, Blacks, gay men,

abuse survivors,

refugees, homeless addicts,

pregnant teens, paupers

so, I should not make

decisions about how best

to solve their problems

but, they are humans

who feel feelings, as I do

therein lies a clue

Note: Composed as President Biden was considering a Black woman for the Supreme Court

Photo source: happymag

THE SWING

the little Black boy

walked with his mom on the path

in front of my swing

he gazed longingly

I looked up from my reading

brown eyes met blue eyes

we each understood

this instant in history

through our race’s lens

standing, I gestured

“would you like to have the swing?”

Mom smiled “thank you, sir”

one more grain of sand

to resist racism’s vile tide;

White men can be kind

Setting: Bayfront Park, Sarasota FL, 9 March 2022

Photo: The swing where it happened

NO WHINING ON THE YACHT

we privileged few

by race, sex, parental genes,

accidents of birth

JOURNEY OF A WHITE LIBERAL

I thought I was clean

farm family’s deviant

wandered off their path

Woodstock, Africa

wept at Uncle Tom’s Cabin

owned my privilege

George Floyd’s death woke me

murder by blue badge’s knee

so profoundly wrong

Black voices stirred me

Black history haunted me

Blacks’ burden crushed me

racism stained me

storm of justice-piercing news

shook me to my core

Image source: CNN

BLACKS GET SHOT

why does this happen?

in the back, running away

Black men die by cop

Black man while jogging

shot by Right’s white “patriot”

seems ok to them

Black woman sleeping

shot by immune policemen

“so sorry,” they say

white vigilante

proudly flaunts assault weapon

praised by Fox TV

we are all safe now:

“law and order” is declared

unless you are Black

Photo source: NYT

JOHN LEWIS

a poor “boy from Troy”*

few dare imagine your pain

Jim Crow’s cruel South

scarred on Pettus Bridge

yet you held love in your heart

kept eyes on the prize

you bore troopers’ blows

nonviolence stayed your creed

brutality failed

you led in Congress

Sisyphus lacked your resolve

mountaintop draws near

yes, your life mattered

millions draw strength from your strength

you changed the world, John

* Martin Luther King’s term of endearment for his young acolyte

Written as the dedication for Common Ground: Haiku, Mediation, and Police Reform

I AM AFRICAN

(And You Are Too)

Swahili greeting:

Sisi ni watoto wa

Afrika … jambo!*

grandmother left home

three thousand lifespans ago

adventuring forth

inching around globe

cave-steads lent safety from threat

warm respite from pain

Eurocentric myth

“invasive species” is us

who’s the next “native”?

our bloodlines alloy

we’re all family, my friend

African cousins

* “We are all children of Africa … hello!”

Photo: Private art

MY SHRINKING ISLAND OF PRIVILEGE

Black men die by cop

Black workers’ pay can’t buy homes

I’m safe, I am white

women risk assault

glass ceiling blocks hard-earned perks

I’m safe, I am male

homelessness stalks poor

death-by-poverty lurks near

I’m safe, I am flush

fog lifts, smoke clears … look!

the times they are a-changin’

angry surf erodes

as my island shrinks

my inborn privilege ebbs

I dream Martin’s dream

The murder of George Floyd, May 25, 2020 (CNN)

BLACK IN AMERICA

how long shall I wait?

four hundred years not enough?

patience wearing thin

slaves freed … oh, really?

Reconstruction’s repair failed

Jim Crow’s brutal siege

lawful lynchings blessed

civil rights’ green shoots gave hope

Martin’s light snuffed out

White Power lives on

plantation mind-set creeps north

clock ticking backward

in land of my birth

equality still eludes

where can I breathe free?

Image source: change.org

RIGHT TO PRIVILEGE?

what right dare I claim?

spewing witty haiku bits,

kismet on display

comfy condo-nest

quarantine endured in style

no paycheck to lose

retirement’s shelter

nest egg cracked, but not scrambled

petty health cares pale

headlines shout your pain

inequality’s rape screams

hardships weep your blood

safe in privilege

unearned birthright’s rich payments

counterbalance due?

Image source: clipart

BRANCHES OF THE HUMAN TREE

· white supremacy

· wealth class inequality

· male misogyny

· goy anti-Semites

· religions’ faith crusaders

· fascist wannabes

· homophobia

· sport-killing animal kin

· inborn privilege

toxic branches sired

at civilization’s dawn

hierarchy’s birth

common roots run deep

outgrowths from the same vile trunk

we are deeply flawed

Image source: greatbigcanvas

WOKE?

Black man sits alone

conference luncheon table

I approach to join

I’m warmly welcomed

intent: anti-racism

does he see my try?

same act if white man?

affirms race? or denies it?

is race-blindness good?

culture’s baggage lurks in me

is special notice racist?

am I woke? what’s woke?

liberals seeking,

self-questioning, still learning,

we want to get clear

PLACES

SCRIBES AT BRUNCH

by haiku quintet,

we Scribes of many flavors

flee our covid caves

quiet, shady brunch

clever, savory menu

… pure Sarasota!

our neighborhood spot

for unrushed conversation,

downtown’s hidden gem

balmy day’s fresh start,

twice-jabbed nearby denizens

munch our lunch mask-free

tell no one but friends:

six-thirty south orange ave,

please keep our secret!

Scribes, a Sarasota writers’ group

KNOXVILLE

wide place in the road

no stop sign to slow traffic

two miles east of home

Cox General Store

old men spit chew on the porch

hitching post nearby

Charley’s blacksmith shop

forged horse shoes and gate hinges

pounding his anvil

Yoakum’s gas station

Sindy’s greasy repair shop

church, one-room schoolhouse

my rear-view mirror

reflects these seventy years

down Highway Thirteen

Setting: Knoxville MO (population ~ 30), near my childhood home, 1950’s

Photo: Revisiting Knoxville, March 15, 2022

HITCHHIKING

I’ve thumbed countless miles

Mizzou to Knoxville and back

weekend laundry runs

California called

to see a name-lost girlfriend

after freshman year

our grand loop out west

sophomore summer junket

with dorm roommate Wayne

Michigan’s U P

weekend AWOL excursion

from Indy’s Fort Ben

it was safe back then

before the world went crazy

when trust was in vogue

Setting: The highways of America, 1963-1966

Image source: vox

MOTORCYCLE MISHAP

I rolled to a stop

in grass beside the asphalt

I heard myself groan

opening my eyes

bike lies beside me, running

it slid, undamaged

disc brakes had heated

rusty from months in storage

I flung myself off

escape tumbling bike

I thought the safer option

novice rider’s goof

two passing farmers

in their dusty pick-up truck

stopped to rescue me

Setting: Near Nacaome, Honduras, January 1969

Photo: Pan-American highway near Nacaome, Honduras, today

Photo source: trip-suggest

HELADO

not knowing the word

he tried to order ice cream

I offered to help

“I’ve come to visit

a foster child I’ve not met”

“my first time down here”

“I need a driver

who speaks Spanish for this trip”

I offered to help

for a grad student

seeking summer adventure

this was a great fit

three days as his guide

my first interpreter gig

best ice cream ever!

Setting: Bogotá to Chiquinquirá, Colombia, summer 1972

Photo: Holding the unstrung tiple I purchased from its maker in Chiquinquirá

WHAT DID PAUL BELIEVE?

with Trish in Izmir

met a history teacher

going to Efes

“may we tag along?”

bus driver dropped us nearby

we climbed a wire fence

walked through field of oats

no gate, no guards, no tourists

only we were there

Jeff gave us lectures

as we wandered fabled ruins

history awoke

when Saul of Tarsus

walked this ancient marble street

what did he believe?

Setting: Ephesus (Efes), Turkey, summer 1981

Photo source: Britannica

NIGHT TRAIN TO KIEV

we boarded early

settling into our couchette

a tap on our door

you are in my room

or something like, in Russian

a reflex kicked in:

¿ay, hay problema?

(if not English, channel two)

he grinned in surprise

Cuban diplomat

found our one common language

wheels began rumbling

over bowls of borscht

a lucky conversation

through the night to Kiev

Setting: Aboard overnight train from Moscow to Kiev, June 1990

Photo: With my daughter before boarding in Moscow

A BRIDGE IN CAIRO

a dad and daughter

houseguests of taxi-man’s aunt

toured sights by day

small home packed nightly

curious neighbors dropped in

young ones shared card games

checked out foreigners

Su’s teen-girl celebrity

American myths

practiced their English

“to where you go tomorrow?”

“Israel, by bus”

Ahmed’s cautious smile

bridged the fraught chasm between us

“we like Palestine”

Setting: Cairo, Egypt, 1992

MANDELA

the air’s electric

yesterday’s election’s done

Madiba has won!

apartheid is dead!

Blacks’ dreams rise from deep despair

Whites hope for the best

my host is driving

campaign posters falling fast

from wooden light poles

“think I should take one?”

we stop quickly in the street

souvenir captured!

from above my desk

my political hero

inspires me today

Setting: Durban, KwaZulu-Natal, South Africa, May 11, 1994

WE CHOSE TO HIKE

only half-way up

the bus is there already

Inca sun’s burning

blisters start to bleed

no one thought to bring water

our legs are rubber

bounding far ahead

Quechua jog with backpacks

coca in their cheeks

we lean on boulders

the ruins still not in sight

how bad could this get?

our plight requires grit

straining to lift ourselves up

no choice, must slog on

Setting: Machu Picchu, Peru, August 1995

Photo by daughter Su: Sean at our destination (we were a party of three)

EARTHQUAKE

wobbling and stumbling

through an archway’s cool shadow

is this vertigo?

I knelt to not fall

others scream, so it’s not me

must be an earthquake!

big waves in small pool

sloshing bathers side to side

frantic to climb out

I stood to see beach

is Banderas Bay still there?

tsunami coming?

an earthquake for my

experience collection

the “big one,” so far

Setting: Puerto Vallarta, Mexico, Colima–Jalisco earthquake, 9 October 1995, 9:35 am

Photo source: Los Tules Resort, scene of the earthquake experience

BIG GUY

“wait for the big guy”

the hike leader told his troop

I glanced back … who’s that?

morning mist-slick trail

day-trek through Alaskan pines

up steepening path

we brought up the rear

youthful speedsters raced ahead

we knew our limits

breathless, we caught up

rested, they’re eager to go

we’re their albatross

“you okay, big guy?”

I am Jon’s little brother

I’m not a “big guy”

Setting: Sitka, Alaska, July 2010, with Susan

Image source: pixels (2019 photo, believed to be the same trail referenced here)

MY PAKISTANI SEATMATE

A Life-snippet

seemed a nice fellow

engineer from Karachi

back home to visit

he sought to teach me

while captive on this long flight

nine-eleven’s truth:

“you must understand

Zionist conspiracy

to hate all Muslims”

I listened with care

honest views of a smart man

mired in crazy myth

not so different

from some much closer to home?

we deplaned with tact

Setting: Aboard non-stop flight from Chicago to Istanbul, September 3, 2011

Image source: ancient-symbols

ICEBERG

my head whipped around

rifle-shot sound cracked the air

echoes of echoes

morning’s quiet rocked

two house-size chunks rolled over

roiling the gray sea

a small tsunami

splashed clunking stones at my feet

stirring salty smells

pregnant icebergs speak

Inuits know by their shape

when a birth is due

locals paid no heed

nothing to see here, it seemed

just keep your distance

Setting: Qaqortoq, Greenland, September 1, 2016, 10:05 am

Personal photo: The subject iceberg moments before it split with a bang

THE PICKPOCKETS

“bird poop” dropped on me

walking under leafy trees

it seemed the real thing

immediately

two kind señoras appeared

pointing overhead

they wiped off my shirt

one in front and one behind

they worked so quickly!

then, just as quickly

they hopped in a nearby car

my, how convenient!

thanking them, I found

my under-shirt pouch unzipped

those ladies were pros!

Setting: Buenos Aires (Palermo), Argentina, February 2017

Photo credit: Essential Destinations

ESCAPING SAIGON

“are these seats taken?”

thus began conversation

we told our stories:

as Saigon collapsed

he was Nguyen Cao Ky’s pilot

to a U.S. ship*

she came with three kids

among the last to escape

on later chopper

a sailor saved them

son vowed to thank him, when grown

lives hung by a thread

two rapt hours later

we bid them, “have a good day”

my story was quick

* USS Blue Ridge, April 30, 1975

Setting: Aboard Seattle-to-Sydney cruise, October 16, 2017

Press photo of the mom, her kids, and the sailor

I HAVE SURVIVED, SOMEHOW

so many close calls

this seventy-six year romp

lucky twists of fate

motorcycle crash

Honduran priests saved my butt

kept souvenir scars

Vietnam’s stoned year

hazy memories survived

pot smoker’s Bronze Star

now, safely cocooned

Sarasota treehouse nest

for the duration

few dangers ahead

except the one that kills me

… waiting … patiently

WOODSTOCK SOUVENIR

old chum googled me

trekked Mizzou to Yasgur’s farm

long memory lane

Jack’s ancient Plymouth

transport to our lucky stars

weed haze billowed forth

trampled fence nulled tix

three days of mud and music,

minds stoned, bodies strewn

peace-and-love meme-field

humanistic colony

tribe’s culture tacked left

serendipity:

long lost jewel fell from cloud

life’s a trip, eh Jack?

Holding unpunched tickets

TET 1968

was I even there?

five-decade memories fade

or, flushed out by fear?

three stuporous nights

minigun fireworks traced sky

choppers pounded air

Cu Chi tunnel maze

beneath my senseless slumber

Viet Cong cooked rice

mortars tapped death’s door

mine stayed shut, by random chance,

denial numbed fright

today I wonder

this surreal lifetime later

was I even there?

Helicopter view of minigun tracers; my view was from ground level.

Image source: pond5

VIETNAM

nineteen sixty-eight

three hundred sixty-five days

a fork in my road

opportunities

some seized, so many wasted

youthful folly’s toll

Tet’s killing nearby

bunkered, defying death’s call

empty body bag

war can be good, eh?

only lessons learned, too late

in history books

war can be just, eh?

saved us from Hitler’s Nazis

Vietnam, not so

Photo: Qui Nhon, 1968

PUERTO VALLARTA

Mexican home town

gem of the Pacific side

warm air, warm people

relaxed or rowdy

choices galore, pick your style

Banderas playground

malecón strollers

buskers, artists, vendors vend

stone-stackers stack stones

palo volador

deft gravity-defiers

I’ll just watch, thank you

zona ‘mantica

gays and straights just friends, or more

shared community

since Richard and Liz

flocking snowbirds come to roost

our wings will fly soon!

HOMELEAVING, HOMECOMING

familiar places

favorite nooks and crannies

warm friendly faces

much like SRQ

base for to-ing and fro-ing

our home on the bay

Vallarta month nears

our home on Banderas Bay

our porch hammock calls

both draw restless “soles”

each offers its special perks

fetching us homeward

dear Florida friends,

mi casa es tu casa

we’ll be home (too) soon

DIEZ PESOS

nearly worthless coin

what can diez pesos buy?

passing whim, trinket

to me, fifty cents

to needy local, far more

rice, beans, tortillas

hunger’s longed relief

moment of kindness, warm smile

one soft human touch

legless man, blind girl

mom nursing fussy baby

unknown suffering

giving every one

in microphilanthropy

small coins buy riches

MALECÓN BUSKERS

seaside promenade

prime people-watching venue

free entertainment

tips pay buskers’ wage

their talents enrich culture

the Vallarta scene

plying artful trades

mimes, musicians, stone-stackers

grace my daily strolls

earning meager fare

by microphilanthropy

I fund a few notes

thin slice of whole pie

Bill Gates might raise sea level

add my wee drop, please

COUSIN TACO

mamá strolls ahead

niña tags along, stays near

tethered by instinct

as if on a leash

invisible tie that bonds

her unchosen choice

our mammal kin, too:

pups, calves, foals, cubs, fawns, kittens

same wants, needs, and fears

they feel what we feel

human hubris shrouds our view

vegans see most clear

a cousin for lunch

unforgivable taco?

moral quandary

On Puerto Vallarta’s malecón

WHIMSY

THIS HAIKU MISSED THE BOAT

my book* has set sail

it embarked just yesterday

this verse missed the boat

its e-journey launched

what far shores will it visit?

e-books know no bounds

what future awaits?

a year, decade, century?

e-books do not die

whose eyes may find it?

what notions spawned in my mind

stir unborn readers?

no worries, calm down

this one’s booked on next sailing

its seat is reserved

* First edition of Haiku Quintets

NOW

wishing there were words

to meet this morning’s moment,

to preserve its truth

pelicans diving

for breakfast of chilled herring,

starting their day, too

blue herons flying

to their bayshore hideaway,

knowing their way back

our world is spinning,

giving us this fine morning,

moon’s nightshift is done

this eternal now

cannot be captured and kept

for there are no words

Setting: Full moon setting over Sarasota Bay, 18 March 2022, 8:00 am

GOAT OR GEFN?

athletes and heroes

strive to earn that gilded crown:

Greatest Of All Time

fame and fortune feed

youthful pride’s hungry soul while

I watch from afar

I’ve never summoned

enough fire in the belly

to climb pointless peaks

I’m competitive

about which of us is the

least competitive

as my race winds down

I’ll wear my drab well-worn cap:

Good Enough For Now

Setting: A sunset muse on ambition in my 77th year

BIGOTED GOATS

poor little Greta

is it her ears, or her breed?

she is an outcast

Blossom’s kin shun her

blocking her from the haystack

with selfish head-butts

Blossom’s clan snuggles

to warm against winter’s chill

Greta sleeps alone

Greta’s LaMancha

Blossom’s Nigerian Dwarf

they look different

are goats bigoted?

surely not my dear grandkids!

they were raised with love

Setting: The Connor mini-farm near Woodstock, Connecticut, 2022

Photo: Holding one of my Nigerian Dwarf grandkids in 2016

DID YOU GET MY NOTE?

did you get my note?

I’ve not received a reply,

so I’m wondering …

are you just busy?

is it lost in your junk mail?

was it unwelcome?

should I send again?

is your computer unplugged?

are you sick or hurt?

am I rushing you?

or are you a thoughtless boor?

if only I knew

if you’re wondering

if this haiku’s about you,

it probably is

Me, waiting for your response

Image source: Wildlife Society

THIS HAIKU JOURNEY

countless explorers

venture to uncharted lands,

their sagas tell us

Pinta’s horizon

hid her journey’s end from view:

doom? Indies? renown?

two years under sail,

lavish realms, barren wastelands

map my wanderings:

art, science, people,

love, politics, pandemic,

esoteric jaunts

now, what lies ahead?

exotic foreign wordscapes,

or home port’s anchor?

La Pinta (replica) at anchor in her Spanish home port

Image source: Wikipedia

WHITHER SISYPHUS?

climate doom, racism,

monied politics, gun-lust,

inequality

blind pronatalism,

antiscience religion’s

child-sacrifice cult

the stone will prevail,

overwhelming misery

defies my frail push

indulge soothing myths?

battle fates beyond my means?

pray to absent gods?

I’ll tend my garden

I’ll watch my grandchildren play

I will write haiku

Disclaimer: This haiku presents the author’s stance as one Sisyphus among seven billion. It does not recommend same to fellow humans, nor to policy-makers. This is art, not advice.

Image source: sisyphusa

WHAT’S THAT WORD?

whatchamacallits

are useful tools at your job

when you can find them

and thingamajigs

are helpful around the house

but often get lost

a sharp doohickey

should always be kept nearby

but where did mine go?

doodads and widgets

are perfectly fine gizmos

but none are in reach

everything you need

is on the tip of your tongue

handy as can be!

COLLECTIVE NOUNS

a herd of cattle

a hutch of baby rabbits

a school of goldfish

a bed of nurses

an adjective of linguists

a pill of druggists

a drove of truckers

an absence of atheists

a scope of doctors

a clef of singers

a peace of mediators

a clap of actors

a pen of writers

a quintet of haikuists

a verse of poets

FIRST THINGS FIRST

my to-do’s pile up

saving the world, for instance

but first, I must nap

finding cancer’s cure

preventing climate crisis

must wait for my nap

I’ll stop covid plague

I’ll save our democracy

need to nap first, though

set priorities

do most important things first

right after my nap

loads of wood to chop

I’m Paul Bunyan’s equal, but

first, sharpen my axe

Sharpening my axe (in Mexico)

ANYTHING

a scribe-friend observed

that haiku can be written

about anything

so, I will pose her

daunting challenge to my muse

when she next shows up

but first, a title …

what shall I name this haiku?

… nothing comes to mind

and, what’s its topic?

an artful subject, perhaps?

… I can’t think of one

maybe Claire was wrong …

it seems there’s nothing to say

about Anything

Anything, or nothing at all

ACCESS DENIED

Zoom-game with grandkids

quick wits, my young pride-and-joys

my wit’s locked, key’s lost

nigh eight decades on

creaky old body still works

but brain, that’s the rub

haiku’s patient muse

indulges my slothful pace

lets seeds soak to sprout

at life’s fogged-in shore

watching how my brain thinks thoughts

where’s that mislaid key?

caffeine? full night’s sleep?

some magical placebo?

restore access, please

A SPRING HAIKU

the task before me:

to conjure a spring haiku

but first, noun or verb?

daffodils, yardwork

beckon thawed snowbirds northward

it’s been fun, see ya

we’re now rebounding

Covid’s winter of despair

hope springs eternal

metaphors spring up:

like when starting something new,

like this newsletter

thanks for your patience

I’ll spring into action, now

and start writing this

COVID CHICKS

locked down in home jail

virus-tethered, time to spare

why not hatch some chicks?

high-rise condo perch

not your grandpa’s chicken ranch

fitting view for fowl

rooster’s dad-deed done

delivered by Fedex stork

don’t scramble these eggs!

three weeks ‘til hatch-day

incubator surrogate

warms and turns her kids

pecks and chirps announce

freedom from shell confinement

set to fly the coop!

Day four of life on the outside

L5-S1

An ode to back pain

our body’s jinxed joint

”intelligent” designer’s

most painful failure

may have worked quite well

for quadrupedal forebears

bipeds not foreseen

evolution lagged

six million years not enough

progress couldn’t wait

unprepared for chairs

stooping to tie shoe laces

new unnatural acts

fellow-sufferers

spend fortunes on elixirs

to keep us upright

Image source: spine-health

FEAR & GREED

Ode to stock traders everywhere

stock price on the rise

surely there’s a greater fool

greed fuels my faith

fear of missing out

blinds my rationality

but numbers don’t lie

now, price turning south

resistance hit, fear takes charge

it seems *I’m* the fool

must sell to cut loss

the lemming herd stampeding

off panic’s sheer cliff

in the marketplace

of everyday transactions

same drama’s on stage

Screenshot of TNA, December 2, 2020

SIX-WORD SENTENCES

a fun contest stirs

our condo. Write stories with

six-word sentences.

my chosen task is

more daunting still. This haiku

quintet must match style.

five verses have three

lines each. The first line has five

syllable limit.

next line adds two more

syllables. Third line also

allows only five.

this Frankenstein’s ode

seems bizarre. did it confuse

you, gentle reader?

A MATTER OF SCALE

nineteen years ago

days, years, centuries changed course

yes, but not all time

shocked city, country,

most corners of this planet

yes, but not all space

some of us lost all

lives, loves, health, fortunes, futures

but not all who feel

at mere human scale

nine-eleven’s disaster’s

a magnum event

on galaxy’s scale

in infinite time and space

cosmos hardly blinked

Composed September 11, 2020

At first, this verse may seem tone-deaf to the human suffering wrought by 9/11. Rather, I hope taking a cosmic perspective may offer some comfort in this, and future, cataclysms.

Photo source: financialexpres

HOW TO GO TO SLEEP

cat circles its bed

finding perfect comfort spot

so, too, in your bed

relieve pressure points

scan body for tense muscles

will them to relax

take deep nasal breath

hold still, stretching chest, sense warmth

then exhale through mouth

note calming effect

use breathing as your mantra

just watch, don’t control

your mind will wander

just return to your mantra

you are asleep now

Source: familiesgotrave

I RITE PERDY GOOD

from retirement’s perch

looking back on my career

seems I did okay

but how? what’s the key?

others were smarter than I

they worked much harder

they got better grades

clearly more self-disciplined

better study skills

more self-confident

more talented public speakers

their social skills shone

what’s my secret sauce?

just maybe it’s simply this:

I rite perdy good*

* Well, yes, white male privilege helped, too.

Image: Screenshot of an early draft of this haiku

HAIKU PUN

relationship of

dermis to epidermis?

it’s the next of skin

you can’t hear when a

pterodactyl urinates --

the “p” is silent

the poet’s insults

of the policeman led to

rhyme and punishment

speech impediments

that occurred in World War Two

were called Schindler’s Lisp

my optometrist

and I agree on most things.

we see eye to eye

A collaboration inspired by the curious creativity of punster Barry Zack.

ANIMAL FRIENDS

birds flock, geese gaggle

fish school, bees swarm, elk herd

social instinct tugs

dogs have special friends

dolphins, goats, camels, primates

who’s your BFF?

humans hug, cuddle

partner, party, kiss, attach,

form shared trusting bonds

some think us unique

un-animal-like, apart

-- our species’ hubris

we play, love, mourn loss

fellow creatures do the same

we are they, they us

Image source: breedingbusiness

CARPE DIEM

Moscow, Kiev-bound

brave daughter just seventeen

brief open window

Africa, Europe,

Mexico, Peru, and more

worldview-shaping treks

memories, but more:

father-daughter bond glued tight

soon: school, job, spouse, kids

life got underway

just-us window closed, sadly

three decades past, now

prime life-lesson learned:

time flies, life is short, grab it

just carpe diem!

Boarding overnight train to Kiev (1990)

TIME FLIES

days pass too quickly

each sweet moment should linger

if I had my way

bygone childhood’s wish

to get this thing over with

but now, time’s finite

hazy road ahead

my old car’s stuck in high gear

near-sighted headlights

life’s a one-meal deal

an exquisite cosmic feast

mystery salad

I’ll savor each bite

my plate will be bare one day

so, dine with gusto

MOONSET

moon’s setting, I rise

what’s in store today, my list?

this year, decade, life?

long-ago farm boy

Sarasota’s a far piece

wandered here from there

some bridges crossed

an infinity unseen

young mind’s eye life-blind

what choices have we?

set futures hide ‘round blind curves

what, then, of free will?

praise, blame, or neither?

heroes’ acts happen by fate?

my task: be-here-now

IDEALISM

IDEALISM:

win at any cost

failure is not an option

fight every damn fight

death ‘fore dishonor

mustn’t compromise values

because? it is right!

must never give up

flexible: four letter word

it’s just that simple

REALISM:

choose least bad option

perfect’s enemy of good

strong leaders follow

weakness can be strength

rest in ambiguity

it’s complicated

Inspired by Samantha Power, author of The Education of an Idealist

ORGANIC HAIKU

all-natural words

no artificial adverbs

only free-range nouns

farm-raised adjectives

vine-ripened interjections!

and conjunctions, too

grammar vitamins

nitrite-free prepositions

home-grown sentences

farm-to-table verbs

gerunds added for flavor

no toxic curses

so here you have it,

a safe, nutritious haiku

… read it in good health!

SUPERBOWL 2020

some haiku snapshots

LEXOPHILIA

A thief who stole a

calendar got just twelve months.

A bicycle can’t

stand alone; it’s just

two tired. A will is a dead

giveaway. Haunted

French pancakes give me

the crepes. Acupuncture is

a jab well done. That’s

the point of it. I

didn’t like my beard at first.

Then it grew on me.

I stayed up all night

to see where the sun went, and

then it dawned on me.

Shamelessly purloined from the New York Times Lexophilia Contest, 2019

THE FIRST SHALL BE LAST

perfect wavelengths blend

reflecting sky and water

photons touch my eye

uncorking my mind

music’s harmonies give voice

to my searching soul

colors morph slowly

cotton clouds keeping close watch

day’s sun all gone now

dark descends in haste

sun’s light fades, my pen is blind

last haiku tonight

September 9, 2019, the sunset that inspired my first haiku quintet, mother of all that followed

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

no one writes alone

my muses may speak out loud

or whisper softly

Chastain’s poet troop:

Penny, Dale, Betty, Donna,

Rhea, Holly(s), more …

Scribes: Aroon, Charlie,

Claire, Marty, Robert, Ann T.

Cork, Neil, Barry, more …

HUSBAY infidels:

David(s), Jack(s), Susan(s), Ernie,

Mike, Rich, Judy, more …

Clan: Su, Sean, Seamus,

Claribel, but most of all

Susan, my best friend

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Midwest born and bred

family farmland culture

cusp of baby boom

farm work not my style

nor army life, I soon found

education called

Mizzou’s seeds took root

psychology fit my bill

then, mediation

Hartford professor

my own enterprise beckoned

science-based worldview

soul mate Susan shares

Sarasota tree-nest joy

retired haiku bard

1955 – 1968 – 2003 – 2018

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