Haiku Master Basho

Matsuo Basho is the Japanese saint of Haiku. Of samurai heritage, he lived in the 17th century and had an enormous following. His complete works, consisting of 1011 haiku, have recently been collected and translated by Jane Reichhold and can be found in Basho The Complete Haiku (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 2008).

It is my humble intention to also write 1011 haiku, one each day. I began in August 2009 and by my estimation, should finish in May 2012. Traditionally haiku was concerned with nature, but today our "nature" has changed. New technology has replaced the winds of nature as the force in our times. What was a rock is now a computer key. What was a cherry blossom is now a world wide web of information. What was light, is now the speed of light. Haiku is about finding an essence, thus these writings will seek to find the essence of our lives today.

A note for the reader: an important aspect of haiku is that the reader can put as much of herself/himself into the piece as the writer. If a haiku is good it will become your meaning not mine. Wish me luck! When the project is complete, if only one of the 1011 haiku approaches the skill and mastery of Basho, I will be satisfied.




Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Nu Haiku 359

trees grow on high roofs
green fingers touching cheek of
the sky, then laughing

Nu Haiku 358

Mr. Bubbles brings
wooden crate with blue, green, and
clear seltzer bottles

Nu Haiku 357

gambling card, ace of
spades dropped on sidewalk, lucky
me, unlucky deck

Nu Haiku 356

when did our world be
come too big for us to be
human to others

Nu Haiku 355

outside Tiffany
world walks by while woman shakes
under thin blanket

Nu Haiku 354

gulab jamuns wait
in rose-flavored syrup for
pink mouths of children

Nu Haiku 353

country dog hops from
shadow to shadow, city
pavement burns soft paws

Nu Haiku 352

Manhattan mattress
parked curbside, bed bug hotel
is relocating

Nu Haiku 351

girl in blue dress blows
bubbles on busy sidewalk
her breath captured there

Nu Haiku 350

bamboo fork in gray
porcelain bowl, the pickled
herring all finished

Nu Haiku 349

to have a home you
must first leave, then return to
greet the familiar

Nu Haiku 348

river noises of
the city roar even though
banks hold no water

Nu Haiku 347

afternoon closes
its curtain with a fabric
of heavy rainfall

Nu Haiku 346

ghost planes circle dimmed
city at night, only wing
lights blinking, watching

Nu Haiku 345

angry sky throws hot
lightening at Brooklyn Bridge
trusses never blink

Nu Haiku 344

some blinds up some down
some halfway winking from
gray honeycombed cement

Nu Haiku 343

dressing in white light
Lady Empire walks tall, her
head in racing clouds

Nu Haiku 342

white piece of paper
drifts down from sky to building
to pavement, bird lands

Nu Haiku 341

busy ants in high
rise windows build and tear down
a thousand ideas

Nu Haiku 340

Shake Shack line snakes half
way across Madison Square
Park while burgers fry

Nu Haiku 339

mud dog rushes past
strangers brushing them with his
wet and happy coat

Nu Haiku 338

airplanes fly over
Manhattan refusing to
move for memories

Nu Haiku 337

flashbulbs pop at top
of Empire State Building, send
out tourist morse code

Nu Haiku 336

city sirens call
to each other like feral
cats on night time prowl

Nu Haiku 335

violet pastilles burst
on tongue, swallowing flowers
I become garden

Nu Haiku 334

powder blue sky hurts
eyes when no cotton clouds break
over wide expanse

Nu Haiku 333

grass turns brown until
steady rain falls on cracked land
earth mother sighs deep

Nu Haiku 332

fireflies sparkle, night's
undulating heat waves wash
still air with hard hand

Nu Haiku 331

one hundred and four
degrees, eggs fry on sidewalks,
tires melt, people stew

Nu Haiku 330

sun sets, orange ball rolls
down alleyway of towering
city, buildings sweat

Nu Haiku 329

unpack plates and cups
wrapped in white towels, place with
care on wooden shelves

Nu Haiku 328

father remembered
today as knife slices through
watermelon rind

Nu Haiku 327

brazilian bald man
can't read, but has strong arms for
furniture moving

Nu Haiku 326

purple, aqua, brown
heather meets loch as sun sets
behind loam mountain

Nu Haiku 325

twilight coyotes
roam suburban streets, stalk small
children like rabbits

Nu Haiku 324

hot dog, no bun, no
fun, sits down on pavement to
protest sizzling paws

Nu Haiku 323

white hydrangea dust
falls on stone table, frosting
of snow in summer

Nu Haiku 322

urban gypsy packs
boxes, bangs tambourine on
dancing hands, and twirls

Nu Haiku 321

silver balloons for
nikki-boom-boom's birthday, bunched
tight like family

Nu Haiku 320

four-sided Iphone
antenna doesn't like when
fingers fuss signal

Nu Haiku 319

kayak oar cuts through
salt water, clumsy wood turns
glass to churning foam

Nu Haiku 318

earth silent in space
all around universe of
violence explodes

Nu Haiku 317

two white cats sit in
cage, wait for adoption and
wonder where grass went

Nu Haiku 316

pink cherry blossoms
bloom under steel sky, there was
my home, street empty

Nu Haiku 315

haiku poet sleeps
under stack of hay hiding
from hungry readers

Nu Haiku 314

haiku holiday
wordless fingers still move but
pen rests silently

Nu Haiku 313

did Basho ever
tire of tapping on fingers
scribbling on paper?

Nu Haiku 312

dusk's pink light settles
on peach bowl, then disappears
between blushing spheres

Nu Haiku 311

spider size of salt
grain crawls across laptop screen
lost in outer space

Nu Haiku 310

silver ceiling fan
slices dark shadow and bright
sunlight, slow breathing

Nu Haiku 309

construction truck dumps
dumpster in driveway, rabbits
hop in grass unfazed

Nu Haiku 308

out on water in
midnight ink, low rumble of
motorboat passing

Nu Haiku 307

squirrel on telephone
wire, catcalls for mate. cell phones
ringing streets below

Nu Haiku 306

haiku memory
stays strong, while life's uneasy
details-forgotten

Nu Haiku 305

bathing in pool of
technology addiction
cannot step out dry

Nu Haiku 304

sending signals to
space, empty universe swirls
but never answers

Nu Haiku 303

google-wacking: search
for two words, no hits, cyber
world crossword puzzle

Nu Haiku 302

carbon-based, we are
almost diamonds, waiting for
a future structure

Nu Haiku 301

a carbon-based life
all that stands between us and
a cold dead planet

Saturday, June 5, 2010

Nu Haiku 300

Basho, greeting death,
with fingers still counting out
haiku syllables.

Nu Haiku 299

Twitter says, "Something
is technically wrong. Thanks for
noticing..." Dot love.

Nu Haiku 298

Ocean teacher says
our enemy is our best
instructor in life.

Nu Haiku 297

Captcha. What is the
proof we are human? Copy,
love, reproduce, die.

Nu Haiku 296

Stumble upon dot
com, one word dot com, dear meat
dot com, tumblr dot...

Nu Haiku 295

San nak ji: hacked off
live octopus tentacles
grasp your mouth, tongue, throat.

Nu Haiku 294

The ships that hold us:
our relationships, friendships,
and companionships.

(Thank you Nicole!)

Monday, May 31, 2010

Nu Haiku 293

How low, rebirth as
a worm in a cod's white flesh,
waiting to be caught.

Nu Haiku 292

Technostress. Too much
tech, too plugged in, too many
results, sites, info.

Nu Haiku 291

E-ba, e-ba, e-
ba. Ink haiku, as printer
pushes out paper.

Nu Haiku 290

Tens of thousands of
Gulf oil wells three miles down and
draining out the earth.

Nu Haiku 289

Real estate agents
circle like jackals on this
city savanna.

Nu Haiku 288

Meditation legs
uncurl, branches bent back, caught
under wooden trunk.

Nu Haiku 287

Torn clothing, chain-chain,
American Idiots'
suburban swagger.

Nu Haiku 286

There is nothing in
nothingness that can't be found
everywhere, nowhere.

Nu Haiku 285

Dalai Lama laughs
at nothingness, emptiness.
Old tiger roars loud.

Nu Haiku 284

Blackberry Buddhas
take photos of the Dalai
Lama speaking deep.

Nu Haiku 283

Men pee like dogs on
New York City streets. Growling
police give summons.

Nu Haiku 282

Fifty friends for the
fifty years gone. Collected
with care, eyes open.

Nu Haiku 281

Ipad silver swan,
200,000 apps and
counting. Apple cult.

Monday, May 17, 2010

Nu Haiku 280

Plaza palms swaying.
Afternoon tea, cucumber
sandwiches, cream scones.

Nu Haiku 279

Supper under stars,
surrealist poets recalled,
scallops, morels, cream.

Nu Haiku 278

Dusk creeps into rooms
taking all light except glow
of computer screen.

Nu Haiku 277

White peonies bend
into themselves like paper
napkins, bin waiting.

Nu Haiku 276

Jet-lag settles like
volcano dust on folded
brain. Obfuscation.

Nu Haiku 275

Earth's black blood bleeds bare
into turquoise waters of
the Gulf. Cry murder.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Nu Haiku 274

Pyjamas, tea, phone,
blackberry, email, tweets. Noon
swallows morning. Gone.

Nu Haiku 273

Mothering Sunday.
In the wombs of creation,
wonder being born.

Nu Haiku 272

Brown sparrow fly now
into gray light softening,
tomorrow waiting.

Nu Haiku 271

Whale tours cityscape
in False Creek. Glass and metal
towers greet brother.

Nu Haiku 270

Water spout calls air.
Remembering ancestors
gray whale returns home.

Nu Haiku 269

Old folks shrink into
small animals with time: mice,
meerkats, bandicoots.

Nu Haiku 268

Heat hammer on South
China Sea never lets smell
of sea water rise.

Nu Haiku 267

Ipod buds fall from
ears, suddenly sound of wind
in grass, waves on rocks.

Nu Haiku 266

Pink azalea tree
makes old woman want to cry,
happy. Beauty buds.

Nu Haiku 265

Times Square bomb. Propane,
SUV, gas, wire, fireworks.
Independence Day.

Nu Haiku 264

Taxi man checks out,
meter dead, won't answer phone.
Stubborn mules kick hard.

Nu Haiku 263

Old woman plays with
wooden blocks and crayons. Smiles,
childhood easy now.

Nu Haiku 262

Garbage man walks out
behind growling work truck, face
melts-oncoming car.

Nu Haiku 261

Crimson flashes on
side of glass building, gift from
breath of setting sun.

Nu Haiku 260

Black and white plumes rise,
tumble, turn to gray miles high
above spewing earth.

Monday, April 26, 2010

Nu Haiku 259

Right hand on silver
laptop body, hard drive heart
beats. Machine master.

Nu Haiku 258

He ho farmer's in
the Dell, changes horse midstream.
Mac! Happy cows home.

Nu Haiku 257

Volcano lava
particles turn to glass in
jet engines. Grounded.

Nu Haiku 256

Always bridges to
airports. Crossing water to
get to air. Upward.

Nu Haiku 255

White sheets cover beds
in homeless shelter. Light in
dark corner holds tight.

Nu Haiku 254

All tweets from the world
in Library of Congress.
Noisy birds in trees.

Nu Haiku 253

White flag waves beyond
barricade of emotions
calling for all clear.

Nu Haiku 252

New apartment waits
for the scents of home to come
and settle on floors.

Nu Haiku 251

City night. Mumbling
voices walk by window, fade
like streetlight at dawn.

Nu Haiku 250

You are my only
country, my passport to the
outside. Waiting world.

Nu Haiku 249

Buddhas don't kill the
cockroaches dead dead dead with
disinfectant spray.

nu Haiku 248

Love, like a perfect
metaphor, held in a line
forever ending.

Nu Haiku 247

Shitake mushroom,
button from earth's tuxedo
fries, wood smell rising.

Nu Haiku 246

Worker polishes
brass standpipe on building wall
as if gold doornob.

Nu Haiku 245

"Premium blog" flogs
dodgy "friends" with freaky pics
and odd addresses.

Nu Haiku 244

Diesel shop window
declares "Be Stupid". Selling
dumb as art. Sell out.

Nu Haiku 243

Sandwich board signs: food,
gold, psychic, massage. Caught in
middle, human being.

Nu Haiku 242

The poem is subject,
process-product together.
inseparable.

(Frank O'Hara)

Nu Haiku 241

City light reflects
on night water. Electric
air rests on bare arm.

Nu Haiku 240

Snow river runs warm.
White blossom rains beginning.
You are remembered.

Nu Haiku 239

Soporific spring,
sun on winter bodies. Leaves,
a slow unfurling.

Nu Haiku 238

Spinning wheel, one hand.
Handicapped humanity.
Lost community.

Nu Haiku 237

Handicapped hamster.
Two good legs run on wheel, two
bad legs hang useless.

Nu Haiku 236

Zoom, zoom. Siren red.
Speeding, tailgating lecture.
Smile. No ticket. Gone.

Nu Haiku 235

River runs down road,
fish swim on highways, all is
not where it should be.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Nu Haiku 234

Cold water flood runs
through stone, concrete. Liquid snake
stalking to destroy.

Nu Haiku 233

Hadron Collider.
Search for super symmetry.
Shadows of gods pass.

Nu Haiku 232

Mystic animal.
Small medium shows woman
way towards hidden ills.

Nu Haiku 231

Korean nail shop.
Black-haired owner's eyes crack whip.
Worker ladies crouch.

Nu Haiku 230

Gray dog down. Tremor.
Hypoparathyroidism.
Big word. Small tail sad.

Nu Haiku 229

College dome. Bell rings.
Financial aid, public schools.
No foreigners here.

Nu Haiku 228

Fog crawls on white knees
down suburban streets, drifting
to wake up sleepers.

Nu Haiku 227

Back street Baltimore.
Sideboards need paint but sidewalks
roll out fine and sweet.

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Nu Haiku 226

"Principally sound
monetary assistance
options." Need funds now.

Nu Haiku 225

Obama health care
victory. Civil rights on
the move one more time.

Nu Haiku 224

Magic personal
communication device.
Dropped, cracked, drowned. Still works.

Nu Haiku 223

Anger, like cousin
lightening, followed by loud
crashing noise in air.

Nu Haiku 222

Web feed, RS feed,
syndicated content, or
XML. Update.

Thursday, March 18, 2010

Nu Haiku 221

Drone man, always on
the phone man. Technology
whip cracks in his ear.

Nu Haiku 220

Naughty nodules try
to grow a life of their own.
Wicked thoughts run fast.

Nu Haiku 219

Norepinephrine,
dopamine, serotonin.
Brain cocktails. Cin cin.

Nu Haiku 218

Gray dog's breath in and
out, sleeping. Whistles, snores, pops.
Now the bone dreams come.

Nu Haiku 217

Harrier hawk flies
to leather gloved hand, lands light,
takes meat, then stares hard.

Nu Haiku 216

When the wind stops, bird's
song finishes, and footsteps
pause, there is silence.

Nu Haiku 215

Taconic in the
rain, water breath turns into
mist. Moving through time.

Nu Haiku 214

Listening lady
smiles, knows pain comes in her door,
flops on sofa, cries.

Nu Haiku 213

Ripped orange sunset rakes
New York skyline. Paradise
lost, above rogue streets

Nu Haiku 212

Brick building, grim square
housing block, orange curtains flirt
with grit street below.

Nu Haiku 211

Sand on the beach sticks
to my boots, disappearing
later, unnoticed.

Nu Haiku 210

Woman with walnut
face, hunched against cold, wears red
head to toe. Laughing.

Nu Haiku 209

Vertical shadows
run floor to ceiling. Twelve bars.
Jail? Open window?

Nu Haiku 208

Arrogant man sits
in corner unwrapping sweets,
eating, scowling loud.

Nu Haiku 207

Human bonobos
show butts on Chatroulette. Rude
monkey manners hoot.

Nu Haiku 206

A light within warms
as full moon rises over
inked sea. A new night.

Nu Haiku 205

Red slice on finger,
mind distracted wondering
where the boy has gone.

Nu Haiku 204

Frying garlic for
noodles makes the whole house stink.
Sour words sizzle too.

Nu Haiku 203

Old man sitting by
curb eats chicken with his hands.
Down at kingdom hall

Nu Haiku 202

Wet snow flakes, paper
torn, discarded by angels,
haiku from heaven.

Friday, February 26, 2010

Nu Haiku 201

Red hawk down, pulling
entrails from prey, mafia
crows look on, jealous.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Homage to Basho

Matsuo Basho is the Japanese saint of Haiku. Of samurai heritage, he lived in the 17th century and had an enormous following. His complete works, consisting of 1011 haiku, have recently been collected and translated by Jane Reichhold and can be found in Basho The Complete Haiku (Tokyo: Kodansha International, 2008).

It is my humble intention to also write 1011 haiku, one each day. I began in August 2009 and by my estimation, should finish in May 2012. Wish me luck! As my readers will see, I have now completed 200. When I am done if only one of the 1011 haiku approaches the skill and mastery of Basho, I will be satisfied.

I post on Twitter every day or two (seven days worth of current entries appear on the bottom of the blog page) and then periodically re-post to the blog, reformatting the haiku from Twitter-slash form to traditional three line haiku form.

It is my intent in these writings to keep in mind the age in which we live. Traditional haiku is generally concerned with nature, however today our "nature" has changed. New technology has replaced the winds of nature as the force of our times. What was a rock is now a computer key. What was a cherry blossom is now the web of world wide information that we take for granted. What was light is now the speed of light. Haiku is about finding an essence and in radical ways our essence has been changed by new technology. I have sought to honor haiku by strictly adhering to its traditional form of 5-7-5 syllables on three lines, and also by using the material of our "nature", our age, in this, our new millennium.

A warning! In confronting what may seem like a mountain of haiku on these pages, it is best to think of chocolate: a little is exquisite, too much will make you ill. Also, an important aspect of haiku is to understand that the reader will put as much (or as little) into the haiku as the writer. If the haiku is good it will become your meaning, not mine. With this in mind, please enjoy!

Nu Haiku 200 !!!!!

Words like grains of rice
can fill an empty field, feed
a hungry village.

Nu Haiku 199

Another highway.
Dusk. Baby blue sky shines through
rain. We drive alone.

Nu Haiku 198

Black henna ribbons
dance on young girl's hand. Fragile
fingers flying free.

Nu Haiku 197

Two dogs snarl, gnashing
at air, ripping scent from each
other. Do dogs hate?

Nu Haiku 196

Green herbs, orange yams, cook
in white coconut milk. Scent
pleases wooden spoon.

Nu Haiku 195

Bustling restaurant.
Valet, coat check, table. Clams
open in water.

Nu Haiku 194

Screen of blackberry
cracking like ice in new spring.
Technology sinks.

Nu Haiku 193

To find one precious
moment in a long day is
more than expected.

Nu Haiku 192

Women's wombs can turn
to weapons, loaded guns aimed
at their heads, their hearts.

Nu Haiku 191

Shock troops are sent out
to whiten teeth, the better
to bare them with, dear.

Nu Haiku 190

A wrong turn on a
dark highway leads to right road.
Faith laughs heartily.

Nu Haiku 189

Valentine's Day. Red
underside of grey clouds flirt
with pink setting sun.

Nu Haiku 188

He put citrine gems
on her earlobes and fire in
her heart. Lovers joy.

Nu Haiku 187

Sushi. Dead fish and
rice soldiers lined up on tray.
Ginger. Wasabi.

Nu Haiku 186

ChatRoulette. Jogging
past strangers in a cyber
park. Weird weird world web.

Nu Haiku 185

Monochromatic
landscape. Black, white, shades of grey
simplify. Silence.

Nu Haiku 184

Emot-icons. Wild
swirls of feelings transduced to
circles, curves, and lines.

Nu Haiku 183

Google, in happy
colored letters, BLACK background,
commandeers my screen.

Nu Haiku 182

New Jersey Turnpike,
factory clouds float across
ground, landscape upturned.

Nu Haiku 181

Salt ribbons follow
winter's road, sweat running down
the broad back of earth.

Nu Haiku 180

Negative Nancy
nd Positive Patsy wait
for winter snowstorm.

Nu Haiku 179

Street corner. Woman
says "get your mojo workin'!"
Man laughs, silly grin.

Nu Haiku 178

Fat cat stuffs small face
in food, he eats laying down,
belly to the bowl.

Nu Haiku 177

Papers on desk piled
high like autumn leaves, threaten
to slide over edge.

Nu Haiku 176

PC deep freeze. Can't
handle Twitter, Blogspot, e-
mail, and Pandora.

Nu Haiku 175

Blogger.com word
verification: bler, plooft,
dilidisc, dioing

Saturday, January 30, 2010

Nu Haiku 174

Seventeen degrees.
Ice on grass, white sky, no snow.
Dog's afraid of fire.

Nu Haiku 173

Opossum by back
door, plays dead. Gray hair on his
head like an old man.

Nu Haiku 172

Bonus Day. Banker
shakedown. Pay big taxes and
get out of jail free.

Nu Haiku 171

State of the Union.
People shake small change in their
empty coat pockets.

Nu Haiku 170

Dog runs through mud pond
in park. Doesn't care that it's
freezing. Owner shakes.

Nu Haiku 169

Fish heads boil in pot
with spine and tail. Stock of brain
and eyeballs ready.

Nu Haiku 168

Winter sky and the
furnace hums, on and off, in
time with season's pulse.

Nu Haiku 167

At the party A
loves the spring flowers, D the
stock, F the roses.

Nu Haiku 166

One hundred roses,
white and orange, make-up for a
lover's thoughtlessness.

Nu Haiku 165

Grumpy doctor turns
faceless as sour impatience
fills consulting room.

Nu Haiku 164

Winter park. People
gather close. One dog walker
dead. Jumped off a bridge.

Nu Haiku 163

There are some people
who just need a leader to
see the good within.

Nu Haiku 162

The little children
gather, so text for Haiti:
90999.

Nu Haiku 161

Those who have the least
live closest to the doors of
hell. Earth's back breaking.

Nu Haiku 160

Haiti crumbles. Heat,
concrete, and blood. Death has no
face in a dirt pit.

Nu Haiku 159

Line of fire-lights,
thirty-seven thousand feet.
Wound through cloud and fog.

Nu Haiku 158

Red-haired, synthetic
leopard-coated girl listens
to crazy music.

Nu Haiku 157

Laughing cousin, love
is peaking around corners
and looking for you.

Nu Haiku 156

Small town sister has
open smile that makes strangers
become friends. Deep heart.

Nu Haiku 155

In city between
the sea and mountains, seagulls
screech and eagles soar.

Nu Haiku 154

Old grannie's birthday.
Balloons, cake, candles, presents.
Her mouth sputters gems.

Nu Haiku 153

Girl loses tin ear-
ring in cinema. Strangers
join search. Littered floor.

Nu Haiku 152

Good captain and crew.
Water between two bridges.
The bobbing boats cross.

Nu Haiku 151

In between Granville
Street Bridge and Burrard Street Bridge
lights dance on water.

Nu Haiku 150

Security checks
gone wild. Honey closes an
airport. Sticky one.

Nu Haiku 149

We could choose to smile
at phone ringing in middle
of quiet yoga class.

Nu Haiku 148

Air travel torture.
Weather, waits, suitcases off-
loaded. Radar gone.

Nu Haiku 147

Good-bye to moon lamp
on sea, bright enough to make
shadows on the bluff.

Nu Haiku 146

Beige coral walls, black
wood furniture, ceiling fan,
lime planks. Wicker day.

Nu Haiku 145

Gracious New Year, start
of another decade, and
world is wide open.

Nu Haiku 144

Green gecko on chalk
coral walls of terrace stares.
Corner calls him in.

Nu Haiku 143

Tropical green tree
canopy, pink sand, azure
bay, deep blue sea rolls.

Nu Haiku 142

Old grandma who grew
up without phones knows how to
call distant cell phones.

Nu Haiku 141

Caribbean Sea
sends hot air currents high, plane
pitches in warm clouds.

Nu Haiku 140

Holiday wrapping
paper balled and stuffed in white
garbage bag by curb.

Nu Haiku 139

Last yellow leaf on
winter branch. Strength to hold on
while all others fall.

Nu Haiku 138

Cloud berries, thunder
snow, ice-storms. Wild abandon
gone. Constant struggle.

Nu Haiku 137

Christmas, this feast and
festival of colored lights.
Pagan history here.

Nu Haiku 136

White holiday lights
twinkle as we try to bring
the stars down to earth.

Nu Haiku 135

Limbs that are beggar
bones, plead for rest, cool bed, firm
pillow. To sleep now.

Nu Haiku 134

Tattooed masseuse plays
fingers across flesh searching
for tied-up muscles.

Nu Haiku 133

Snow banks along the
roadside hold the sadness of
suburbia in.

Nu Haiku 132

Winter blows her cold
breath. Out from frozen mouth comes
twisting ice crystals.

Nu Haiku 131

Another lucky
ladybug lands on my arm,
now, gently removed.

Nu Haiku 130

Frozen earth holds the
dead tight. Branch and leaf and soil
become one, contained.

Nu Haiku 129

Long Island Sound churns
up a ribbon of turquoise
bounded by brown hills.

Nu Haiku 128

Another being,
another universe, my
atoms lived there once.

Nu Haiku 127

Old woman. Coffee
shop, grey hair wet, red lipstick,
bad teeth, eyeliner.

Nu Haiku 126

Late at night only
the refrigerator speaks
to night's pock-marked face.

Nu Haiku 125

E-Mall. For spending
no circumambulation
required. Fingers walk.

Nu Haiku 124

Schizophrenic in
pink tights, orange bag, doesn't eat.
Coffee makes her sleep.

Nu Haiku 123

Friends walk behind high
mountains. Searching for passage
the deep gorge is blocked.

Nu Haiku 122

Blonde violinist
plays Eleanor Rigby, "...all
the lonely people..."

Nu Haiku 121

Sweet and sour noodles
slide down throat, ginger, chili,
lemon exploding.

Nu Haiku 120

Simon, Garfunkel
blared sounds of silence. Mayer
just waits on the world.

Nu Haiku 119

Eyelids become soft
when wounded by salt tears, wet
healers of the heart.

Nu Haiku 118

Restless hearts search for
something still unknown. Love lost.
Sparrow flies alone.

Nu Haiku 117

Sound of paper, like
leaves tumbling across water
surface, gingerly.

Nu Haiku 116

Kindle. Nook. Rook to
book, checkmate. Disappear now.
Trees smile in the woods.

Nu Haiku 115

Subjectivity
like mousetrap in a corner
sits waiting to snap.

Nu Haiku 114

Orange persimmon sinks
into itself, bitterness
gone. Sweetness on tongue.

Nu Haiku 113

Light through window shines
on Buddha head half hidden.
Hallway shadows shrink.

Nu Haiku 112

Blackberry thumb aches.
Tap, tap, fluid-filled, pain shoots.
Communication.

Nu Haiku 111

Ebay, pottery,
iridescent glazes hop
off the screen and shout.

Nu Haiku 110

Pumpkin pie, apple
pie, pecan pie, ice cream, cake.
Who's the turkey now?

Nu Haiku 109

Turkey gobble gob.
Wild birds camouflaged in brown
still run in wild woods.

Nu Haiku 108

Green chrysanthimum
sits like succulent, spongy
fingers in brown vase.

Nu Haiku 107

Grandmother's black shoes,
soft leather like the inside
of an arch purring.

Nu Haiku 106

Swimming through mud, stones
hit shoulder, branches slap chest,
feet search for bottom.

Nu Haiku 105

Black cat runs in front
of white car. Where is the bad
luck? Around corner?

Nu Haiku 104

Swine flu, bird flu, SARS.
Who's winning in this swill race?
Virus versus man.

Nu Haiku 103

Haiku holiday.
Where has the poet gone to?
Sunk in muddy pond.

Nu Haiku 102

Lady bugs turn black
as they die, decorating
their own funerals.

Nu Haiku 101

Blackberry propped on
buddha waiting to connect
to internet. Ping.

NU HAIKU !!!!! 100

One hundred haiku.
Less than one tenth of the way
to Basho's blossoms.

Nu Haiku 99

Expiration date
on soup can, date of your death,
single reminder.

Nu Haiku 98

Scent of snow. I long
for water airborne, for gown
of winter to fall.

Nu Haiku 97

Taxi driver. Grand
son has two teeth coming. Bites
Dad's hand. Brave boy grows.

Nu Haiku 96

One billion fifty
million Google hits for tweets.
Twitter "micro blog".

Nu Haiku 95

Yellow street light shines
through gold leaves, red taillights glow.
Azure evening sky.

Nu Haiku 94

Hunger. Pawing in
the belly, mauling back of
brain, opening mouth.

Nu Haiku 93

An elemental
rubicon. Where? What is it?
Point of no return.

Nu Haiku 92

Friend listens to friend
read twenty-four poems new to
world. Beyond duty.

Nu Haiku 91

Hippocampus map
reader. Use of GPS
creates atrophy.

Nu Haiku 90

Sound of snow whispers.
November and I can't hear
you yet, waiting here.

Nu Haiku 89

Orange leaf wet with dew.
By the time I bring it home
for you water's gone.

Nu Haiku 88

Office building, storm,
swallows travel fast toward plate
glass window. Swerve up.

Nu Haiku 87

Con men, white van, say
they have work order. Liars
drive slowly away.

Nu Haiku 86

Coyote, lush bronze
fur, come to eat my fat cat,
I bang pots, he stands.

Nu Haiku 85

500 trillion
synapses. Why then are we
so stupid sometimes?

Nu Haiku 84

Lady bug lands on
pocket, good-luck sign flicked off
with mindless finger.

Nu Haiku 83

Moon rises over
America, land barely
illuminated.

Nu Haiku 82

Folds of brain adding
more surface area, more
ideas. Deep wells.

Nu Haiku 81

Dead- Natalia
Estemirova. Shame on
Russia. Freedom dead.

Nu Haiku 80

Ice storm. No chance of
heated particles meeting.
Salt melts snow, bad taste.

Nu Haiku 79

Scowling woman can't
eat smile when smile meets her eyes.
Snake moves between stones.

Nu Haiku 78

Dow tops 10,000,
bell weather index smiling.
Stubborn mule he-haws.

Nu Haiku 77

Black ribbon highway
magnanimously wrapped in
autumn's flaming coat.