Wednesday, October 28, 2020

The Cicada's Cry: A Micro-Zine of Haiku Poetry, Autumn 2020

a pinch
of sun in our soup . . .

The Bamboo Hut, Number 4, 2020

The Birds Inside My Ribcage

railway spur the to and fro of meadowlarks

blown cattails
moorhen prints emboss
the mud

circles of sun
in the peregrine's eyes . . .
windy bluff

smoky moon
a sandhill crane's
rusty crown

the snowy sky freckled
with crows

Under the Basho, 2020

we amble
along an esker's spine
gravel shifting
into small symphonies
underneath our boots

ghost moths . . .
mother's pale hands
f l u t t e r
around the light
of her memories

sacred waters . . .
we sleep among pods
of sperm whales
suspended upright
in the ocean's belly

Stardust Haiku, Issue 46, October 2020

final breath
father casts his line
into twilight

Stardust Haiku, Issue 45, September 2020

the shimmer
of your harp's strings . . .
spider silk

Shamrock Haiku Journal, Number 44, September 2020

prairie sun
the yellow chest sacs
of sage grouse

elder flowers
the whistles we will make
from their stems

Moonlight Haiku Challenge Anthology - Consulate General of Japan in Toronto, September 2020

The Consulate General of Japan in Toronto published the following haiga in their Moonlight Haiku Challenge Anthology:

Modern Haiku, Vol. 51.3, Autumn 2020

pintail duck
the long pause before
you answer

Kokako, Number 33, September 2020

the footprints
of invisible people . . .

distant thunder
bred by lightning . . .
a coyote's yip

the air thicker
than manuka honey . . .
how long
has it been since
we danced with bees

the brash calls
of trumpeter swans
we are always searching
for the best place to land

sunlight's tongue
flicks among oak leaves
how seductive
these age-old dances
with elusive shadows

Human/Kind Journal, September 2020

Sciences Category


Mariposa, Number 43, Autumn/Winter 2020

white squalls
appear in the distance
without warning
this vision of something
I do not want to know

This issue includes the results of the 2019 San Francisco International Rengay Competition:

Rengay written with Jennifer Hambrick (in normal type) and Debbie Strange (in italics):

In the Key of Grey

hydro lines
the sixteenth notes
of grackles

in the key of grey

the lullaby
of wind through grain
empty silo 

high lonesome
a crush of midnight

barbed wire
the descant of coyotes

into the distance
a train's lament

Third Place (tied)

Excerpted from the judge's comments:

...It was one of very few rengay with a double theme. And the music references are skillfully incorporated into each verse, all of which relate very nicely to one another. I found this rengay to be very aesthetically pleasing.
—Seren Fargo

Haigaonline, Vol. 21, Issue 2, Autumn 2020

The Work Challenge - Brocade of Leaves Issue


GUSTS, Number 32, Fall/Winter 2020

every tide
etches its own screed
upon the sand
here and there, traces
of someone else's ashes

a string
of shabby prayer flags
in the ditch
snowflakes mending edges
where hope used to be

saucers of ice
spin their way downriver . . .
we are honed
until nothing remains except
the roundness of memory

#FemkuMag: An E-zine of Womxn's Haiku - Issue 27, October 2020

ripening pear the bruises that never heal

from here to infinity the hand of doomscrolling 

Daily Haiku, Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog, September 2020

September 12

the ocean
was in a rage last night
but today,
these peace offerings
of blue mussels and kelp

1st Place
Sanford Goldstein International Tanka Competition, 2018

September 13

between the spokes
of your spinning wheel
a dusty web . . .
I never thought our lives
would so quickly unwind

1st Place
The British Haiku Society Tanka Awards, 2019 

September 18

dried curls
of gray reindeer moss
crunch softly
underneath our boots . . .
no other sound, but breath

1st Place
San Francisco International Tanka Competition, 2016

September 24

mountain lupine
the colour of wild
in your eyes

Cattails, May 2014
also published in my haiku collection, A Year Unfolding, (Folded Word 2017)

Cold Moon Journal, October 2020

October 18


October 24

empty paint tubes the thickened layers of regret

October 29

the sheen
of glass gem corn . . .
heirloom pearls


Chrysanthemum, Number 28, October 2020

Translated into German

Akitsu Quarterly, Fall 2020

frozen dew
on teasel heads . . .
tipping point

our fields punctuated
with hay bales

the horses
swim out to greet me . . .
ground fog