Haiga Archive

dusting off
the porcelain—
late winter

no moonlight
a rickety pier strikes
through the dark sea

gathering
my thoughts from the bottom of
the pond
the nocturnal bird’s call echoes
from the glistening bass scales

I gently strum
a lark’s bleached ribcage…
how long
have you lain here
with your mossy heart

november highway
with chips on the shoulder
the red-tail hawk

mango rain
the tea table stretches
the card game

prayer words…
patterns of light
on the wall