The following poem was first published in Illumen, Spring 2025.
Swirling bands of clouds, azure, gold, and green
spiraling whorls of color, tan and tangerine
Metallic hydrogen seas are churning,
blue aurorae tingling, burning
The king of planets ever shines
upon the children of the earth
Rings on rings, however faint
steadfast gravity shows no restraint,
countless moons Zeus has accrued
From the makeshift lens were viewed
by a man who reads the signs
of Jupiter’s surpassing worth
Galileo uncovered the secret math
and so incurred the church’s wrath
They sentenced him to house arrest,
thinking this would end his quest
But knowledge cannot be confined
after imagination gives birth
The following haiku was first published in the Spring/Summer 2025 edition of Autumn Moon Haiku Journal.
under the wind
the steady plunk! of maple
into the bucket
The following haibun was first published in April 2025 edition of cattails:
I am lying in my crib, staring at the dark ceiling. This is one of my first memories. Above the window is an empty, white plant hook. When cars drive by, their headlights bathe the room in blue. When they come down the hill, the light washes from left to right: when they come from the highway, right to left. A shadow stretches from the hook, long and distorted. It looks like a man in a trench coat, collar flipped up, wearing a fedora, his eyes barely visible between the top of the collar and the hat’s wide brim. When two cars pass at once, the shadow moves back and forth, back and forth. His outstretched hand is knocking . . . knocking . . . knocking . . . on an old woman’s door.
I complain to my parents for days to remove the hook. My two-year-old logic cannot explain, but they comply, confused. Yet the shadow remains knocking in my mind.
even now . . .
in clouds, treetops, churches
silent swirling shadows
The following cherita were first published March 25, 2025 in issue 97, my h e a r t, of the cherita.
Sisyphus
rolling a snowball
uphill
tired
I take a seat
and it collapses
* * *
all-consuming darkness
the river
choked with ice
Christmas lights
twinkle desperately
casting meager shadows
The following haiku was first published in the German/English haiku journal Chrysanthemum, issue 34. Download the issue to see the German translation.
luna moth
such a stunning green
I can’t fall asleep
The following senryu were first published in issue 109 (March 2025) in Failed Haiku:
woodworking
my math gives way
to reality
gravestones
with a single name—
as if we remember
dandelions
to her, a medicine
to me, a weed
your arm
a seat belt
for the night
The following haiga was first published in the April 2025 edition of cattails:
Text reads:
distant galaxy
I sweep sawdust swirls
from the garage
The image is of the NGC 1300 galaxy, imaged by the James Webb Space Telescope. Here’s a comparison of the James Webb and Hubble versions of the image.