Kokako, Number 44, April 2026

graveside eulogy

a crow competing

with the cleric

our terrier

living her best life . . .

skunk musk

at last,

something unnamed

begins to lift . . .

evergreens emerge

from a blur of snow

a house sparrow

lights upon my table

I am happy

to offer the crumbs

of this day to her

(collaboration with Graham Bates)

Kokako, Number 43, September 2025

Grateful to have a lovely review of "Random Blue Sparks" by the editor, Graham Bates, included in this issue. It can be accessed under the book's title tab of this blog. I'm also honoured that "homelessness" was nominated by the editor for a 2025 Touchstone Award!

homelessness

the driftwood's hole

filled with a stone

rime ice

the spikes of burrs

grow longer

childhood days

spent digging for treasure

on the beach

you still wear the pendant

I made from pirate glass

the wind

strumming ocean waves

what music

do you have in store

for me tomorrow

Kokako, Number 42, April 2025

Grateful to the editor, Graham Bates, for selecting "a fluttering of sparrows" monoprint for the cover:

The following work was also included in this issue:

whooper swans

the turning maples

nearly as loud

devil winds

someone's world

on fire

cultivating

this garden acreage

my hands

rejoice in working

the soil you once tilled

nightingales

once lived in this hazel

I still miss

the soothing cadence

of my father's voice

(note: the haiga above was a collaborative effort - Graham Bates provided the image and  I provided the poem)

The Haiku Foundation: Haiku of the Day (formerly Per Diem), December 2024

Selected by Jackie Chou for the theme of "Reflection": December 6, 2024

flood plain

a red barn succumbs

to its reflection

Kokako, Number 36, April 2022

 

Kokako, Number 41, September 2024

Thrilled to have had work selected for this first digital issue!

wild turkey

a dandelion wish

in its beak

star anise

the night bazaar teeming

with fragrance

penguin rookery . . .

the precious things

we keep

within the circle

of our family

(note: honoured to have collaborated with Graham Bates, Editor-in-Chief, for the above haiga)

 

Kokako, Number 40, April 2024

Thrilled to have had work selected for this final print issue!

prairie blizzard the hissing of kerosene

old friends

a trio of puffins

rubbing beaks

city parables . . .

street corner prophets

offering

their thunder to gods

and other strangers

this mountain,

a spiritual gateway . . .

I look

for myself beyond

the forest of clouds

Kokako, Number 39, September 2023

oxbow creek

I search for the right turn

of phrase

evening primrose

we open ourselves up

to the night

juvenile kite

rainy days are made

for flying

horizon line

a splinter of sunset

in the black swan's bill

fine-tuning

my internal rhythms

to earth's hum,

I find a frequency

designed just for me

white columns

of trapped bubbles rise

under lake ice . . .

we skate over the turrets

of mythical castles

 

Kokako, Number 38, April 2023

change in the weather these clouds of consternation

our cottage

becomes a boat . . .

derecho

peeled plums

the mandala I make

with their stones

the older brother

we nearly had . . .

empty silo

barred owls

roost in the forest

dark eyes

conceal mysteries

too old for solving

 

Kokako, Number 37, September 2022

bosky banks

new anglers whistle

away the fish

the point is lost

but we know it's there . . .

garden obelisk

stained oilskins

an iceberg's blue

somersault

lesser celandines

aglow in my garden

their name

belying the beauty

of these earthly stars

father lights

the kerosene lantern . . .

we recite poems

until they are rooted

in blood and bone

Kokako, Number 36, April 2022

black truffles

we search for something

beyond the obvious

the icy glint

of uncertain tracks . . .

tundra sunrise

flood plain

a red barn succumbs

to its reflection

 

Kokako, Number 35, September 2021

night-dew

raccoons waddle down

the fairway

distant kite surfers . . .

a host of gaudy angels

suspended

between this world

and another

an only child

buries himself in sand

friendly tides

licking traces of salt

from his curled fingers

Kokako, Number 34, April 2021

eddies of dust

the rooster's comb blends

into sunrise

feather stars

undulating across

the ocean floor . . .

beauty exists even when

we cannot see it

abandoned puppies

tumble from a torn box

there is more

than one way to learn

the art of mothering

 

Kokako, Number 33, September 2020

the footprints

of invisible people . . .

sandstorm

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

overhead

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

Kokako, Number 32, April 2020

nesting swan
a crack of light seeps
under our door


icicles grow
from the ground up . . .
rusted gutter


our fingers
scented with tobacco,
we hand-roll
mom's smokes and sing
long into the night


three sisters
wrapped in a quilt
of belonging
on the porch swing
we leave space for her . . .

Kokako, Number 31, September 2019

ranunculus the delicate unfurling of dawn


slot canyon
the sunbeam only
a lizard sees


my basket
full of clothes pegs
I smile
at your jeans dancing
with my calico dress


taking shelter
in a graffitied doorway
the stray and I
decide to become
more than strangers

Kokako, Number 30, April 2019

savannah a dazzle of zebras kicking up moondust


limestone lake
sunlight changes the way
we look at things


vernal equinox . . .
rare snow snakes begin
to slither
from every branch until
only wet shadows remain

Kokako, Number 29, September 2018

first snowfall a tumbleweed comes to rest


buffeted
by a nor'easter
our old skiff
shrugs off its moorings
like an apology


the plumage
of Mandarin ducks
we can
only dream of wearing
finery such as this

Kokako, Number 28, April 2018

thunderheads above the prairie red-tailed hawks


polar night
a snowy owl fades
to black


how tender
the kiss of snowflakes
upon my lips
these fragile wishes
that you were still mine


he bows
his cello like a prayer
for lost souls
music calls to us
across the abyss


Note: This issue also includes a lovely review of A Year Unfolding by Patricia Prime which may be accessed on the "Books and Reviews" page of this blog.

Kokako, Number 27, September 2017

caribou migration here then gone midnight sun


fog hangs in the hollow a nest of owlets


tent city . . .
salamanders scurry
in all directions

Dwarf Stars 2017 - The Best Very Short Speculative Poems Published in 2016

our bodies
no more than stardust
we fall
from constellations
and for a moment, shine


Kokako 25, September 2016