100 haiku challenge - 49

Breeze through the window

blows on my arm as I write.

Outside is close by.

100 haiku challenge - 48

The rain is not much

dropping on my scalp and neck.

A gentle spring storm.

100 haiku challenge - 47

Over the traffic

I hear birds whistle and chirp

from here down the road.

100 haiku challenge - 46

I wrote a poem

with laughter and wind and rain

under a gray sky

100 haiku challenge - 45

Shriveled daffodils

surrounded by tall green leaves.

Spring is not easy.

March 29 poem

that ‘Fuck!’ that names the moment your future changes shape

“ugh fuck”

the dropped sigh of a long wait in the cold and nothing left at home to keep you off the couch

“FUCK”

the sudden wall between a diagnosis and paying for its care

“F U U U U C K”

the multi-second shout when the pain isn’t going away, but you still gotta stand

IV

maybe the say-it-on-the-inhale “fuck” that is the heat behind your teeth pulling you into someone else’s breath

V

or the “mmm fhuckh” that licks your lips leftover funk of sweat and laughter lingering in the pulse behind your wrist

VI

or the shout of delight at a twist of somebody’s fate, maybe yours, maybe mine “Oh, fuck!”

VII

what if this is the fuck that closes roads without cones or detours, sharp and obdurate

VIII

the kind that drains tomorrow of leftovers and tonight of a warm kitchen, that takes too much to say

IX

that mostly tastes of numb, always on call, waiting on every bus, in every inbox, lurking like mold

X

what about the kind that holds words for ransom under piles of unfolded laundry and empty drawers

XI

in the shard of glass that escaped last year’s broom

XII

the clump of memories the house turned up out of nowhere on a day that bleeds

 

100 haiku challenge - 44

In the yard, yarrow
grows green and soft and upward.
Rain and sun bring life.

100 haiku challenge - 43

Blossoms on branches
purple in shadow, pink in sun,
catch my eye at dusk.

100 haiku challenge - 42

A raptor landed,

it may have been an eagle,

and then flew away.

100 haiku challenge - 41

Wind in the courtyard

on a warm sunny day.

I met a husky.

100 haiku challenge - 40

The sunset turned dark

just as I closed the curtains

and headed to rest.

100 haiku challenge - 39

I begin the book
and remember how much fun
it is to read them. 

100 haiku challenge - 38

Still in the morning

after days of wind and heat

as the spring begins

100 haiku challenge - 37

Two raptors flying

circles in the neighborhood.

Brown against blue sky.

March 22 poem

currently untitled - pop culture and emotional baggage

At the edges of joy and still raw,

it's not the yearning that keeps me away -

the pain of absence and unanswered texts.

Feels like I'm standing at the working edge

of a goal and leaning back to yearn

for a voice that is shaped by its absence.

Any direction is a blessing to break the stillness

and let me get to a new place, to keep

sharing stories, silliness, and context.

There is nothing more fun than watching yearning

lovers find each other's feelings in small still

ways - the slow blinks of yes, the rapid texts

with every new discovery that keeps

focus on each other. In the absence 

of an other, new joy sits on the edge

of a wound that says it's fine, sits still

in case movement gives it away, keeps

distance and decorum - stays at the edge

of healing, an abscess out of an absence

that weighs enough to press text

into inaction even as fingers yearn

to press play, to say yes, to keep

the flow of delight going, to absent

myself from the known and tangle the yarn

of fate away from isolated texts

and empty seats. There is room at the edge

of decision. Room enough to sit still

and avoid the work to fill the absence

with love and healing. I practice easy texts

in all caps and shared reading, the effort still

tiring, still uncertain, each one on the edge

of honesty, the stink of yearning

fills my face with every send, but I keep

pressing, keep wondering, reframing the text

away from what was to what is, the edge

of what could be. Perhaps this will keep 

possibility alive, will burn the yearning

away, and I will find a yes still

taking root, redefining absence.

Author's note: I'm sure you've noticed that this is a sestina, just sort of reversed. I reversed the order of the stanzas, rather than the order of the lines, so the pattern of end words is transposed, not actually reversed. It's kind of a vulnerable piece that is doing some heavy lifting so that I can finally watch Heated Rivalry which I haven't been able to do even though I a) want to b) will enjoy it c) have read ALL of the books and d) watch fan edits on YT all the time. Apparently sometimes you just gotta write a thing about some stuff so the feelings can catch a break and a nap.

Edited to change the last line from "looking around, drawn away from absence." to "taking root, redefining absence." on March 28. 

100 haiku challenge - 36

Bangles on our hips

shimmying and laughing

at the library.

100 haiku challenge - 35

Live music at lunch

with sunlight and little kids.

I daydreamed a lot.

100 haiku challenge - 34

The sunset went red

Behind the buildings outside.

She smiled when she looked.

100 haiku challenge - 33

Light behind the clouds

as the sun rose this morning,

glowing under gray.

100 haiku challenge - 32

Mourning doves outside.

I hear their gentle warble

and then see the sun.

100 haiku challenge - 31

I opened the door

to watch the clouds moving south

after the sirens 

100 haiku challenge - 30

Refracted sunlight

off my disco ball headband

dotting the ceiling.

100 haiku challenge - 29

After the drive home

on a dry and sunny day

my bed will hold me.

100 haiku challenge - 28

On a dark morning

before morning, after night,

it is time to stir.

please enjoy the additional sonnet that required writing:

Ode to A Dark Morning

Coming out of sleep

in the dark sky of morning before morning,

of morning after night.

There's only so much rotting to do

before it's time to roll up and roll out

carried toward the door

on the memory of a destination,

muscles in motion to nowhere.

The air is thick with dreaming and dew.

My tongue tastes the ghosts of Dr. Pepper

and Camel Lights and decades passed,

shaking off the cottonmouth before dawn.

I cherish the dark morning's shift to day

walking to waking with gentle feet.

100 haiku challenge - 27

Travel with a friend

has made the city bigger

and slowed down my breath.

100 haiku challenge - 26

After a long day,

up at three in the morning

listening to rain.

100 haiku challenge - 25

Bud casings fallen

Away from white-petaled blooms.

Springtime sidewalk crunch.

100 haiku challenge - 24

The ends of branches
Grow new or maybe not new
Extensions of life.

Yep. I like spring.

100 haiku challenge - 23

Without my glasses

The River is brown and gray

And dotted with shacks.

I love the train ride between St. Louis and Kansas City. The last few times I took it there was so much snow on the riverbanks and towns. I love the quiet gray and brown of late winter and early spring. Love seeing the nests and new life along branches.

Also I tend to strain my neck from facing out the window.

100 haiku challenge - 22

A bike ride today

Slowly through puddles and chill.

I hope to do more.

Today I got to perform the sacred rites of helping a friend pack for a move. We shared breakfast, coffee, water, joyful tunes, and the surprise of skilled book people when it comes to packing those delicate and breakable things. A codex is sturdy, but it will break more quickly than imagined. 

There were three of us, a regular three of cups at a temple to honor the riches of a quiet and textured life. I felt a little worried at first because I was late. And then because one of friends has actually studied methods of packing books to insure their safety and's then it was all fine because we pack books in almost precisely the same way.

In the end, our friend was delighted and the way forward was eased in good humor and excellence.

100 haiku challenge - 21

Golden light at dusk

Shining through leafless branches

End of a long day

This day was beautiful. I found myself wanting to be more in it, more aware of the changing light and the quality of the sun on the bricks in my neighborhood. I wanted to be the warmth and to learn the stories of the walls at evening.

100 haiku challenge - 20

My long evening stroll

smelled of mist and growing things

along empty walks.

100 haiku challenge - 19

I pulled up the blinds
and we shared a gray moment,
remembrance of peace.

Today it rained, as it has for a few days, as it will for a few days more. From my work station, I could feel the world grow grayer and hear thunder in the quiet of the afternoon. Most colleagues had gone home; those that remained were tired and slightly under different weather. My cubical mate exclaimed in gentle joyful sounds when I lifted the blind on the window behind us. We spoke of wet bark and the release of a rain storm and the moments of quiet and rest in days like this. Softness finding softness at the dripping root of things.

100 haiku challenge - 18

I saw daffodils.
Short and green and blooming
bunched yellow petals. 

100 haiku challenge - 17

Reading at the bar
on a damp night before spring.
Nowhere else to be.

I am reading the unread books on my fiction shelves. There were 17 at the beginning of the year. I read 1 and bought a new book, so there are 17 books to read. I won't rate them or review them, no matter how much I think I want to. Years of reading for sales and elevator pitches left some residue that I'm cleaning up with the work of letting go. But it was fun to read Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino last night over a beer and a burger. Fun to be silent with my elbows on the bar. Fun to let it wash over me with no expectation. 

There is a little bit of a poem in the moments of music and solitude in public. Sometimes it is a lived poem, sometimes it is written. We shall see about this one.

100 haiku challenge - 16

Slightly cold all day.
Even sunshine through windows
could not thaw me out. 

Look at that - feeling better enough to use all their words instead of a contraction!

Yay!

Except that, yeah, having a cold and feeling cold are not great for not having a cold anymore. Sending everyone the strong reminder that no matter how amazing the poetry reading is, or how excited you are to be in the space - remember to pack a mask for yourself and maybe a friend, and then wear them, because humans are disgusting and being ill is the actual worst.

100 haiku challenge - 15

Rain drops on my walk.
Just small splashes on my head
that dried right away. 

we are already at the point in the exercise where i am actively wondering what is concrete and what is figurative. i questioned using the word 'splashes' because it felt so evocative. my face was still swimming in goo that may have had something to do with it. the word 'just' in this also feels too distant from something lived. interesting.

100 haiku challenge - 14

Laid out by a cold,
whining and stuffed and tired.
It's rough being sick. 

okay, so contractions are not strictly acceptable in the form of haiku. i get this and appreciate it. also my face was filled with ick when I wrote this and I am keeping it the way that it is to honor that experience and the fact that I wrote something on the day.

100 haiku challenge - 13

I love this music.
Road work season has begun
uneven pavement.

100 haiku challenge - 12

The sky this morning
was clouds and clear blue and pink
near the rising sun.

Extra:

The crows are not gone.
I am the one missing them
in the cold season.

100 haiku challenge - 11

My ankles are cold.
The garden is still and brown.
I am drinking tea. 

100 haiku challenge - 10

Bitter cold today.
There are tufts of green growing
spring during winter. 

Poem for Feb 22 2026

New Moon, 2026 Feb

The red-wing blackbirds have returned,
I saw one from the train, perched on tall dead grass.

The crows are fewer and fewer,
flying north even through my dreams;

caws shift to whistles and chirps,
overlapping soundtracks at morning.

I am all churned mud and mixed water
at the confluence of welcome and farewell;

snow melt and rain gauges flow
cleansing as tears and deeply rooted.

Buds begin to show on tree branches
gray as bark, as a storm, as a sneeze.

I will settle seeds in soil and sun,
thaw them in blessings of memory as prayer

find me as I thrill to birdsong and daffodils
and blades of grass in the warming days.

100 haiku challenge - 9

A conversation
filled with honor and humor
and whispered asides.

100 haiku challenge - 8

Birds fill the park's trees
tucked between downtown buildings.
A smile on my walk. 

100 haiku challenge - 7

A cello concert
reflected in hanging art.
New friend and music.

100 haiku challenge - 6

On a windy night
The skeleton next door whirred
I didn't look back.

 

100 haiku challenge - 5

Sunshine and shadows

have sharp edges in the quad.

Lunch with undergrads.

100 haiku challenge - 4

 A new moon today.

Wind that blows away the dust

and leaves a blank slate.

100 haiku challenge - 3

I saw crows flying

Far away and few between.

The days are longer.

100 haiku challenge - 2

Smiling at a book

An impossible story

On a sunny day

100 haiku challenge - 1

Fog on the windows

Makes it hard to see outside

My senses tilted