Haiga Archive

What a charming name!
The wind blows through little pines,
Clover and susuki

Alas for mortality!
underneath the helmet
a grasshopper

Whiter, whiter than
the stones of Stone Mountain—
the autumnal wind

they found it on the edge of the highway
30 miles from anywhere, crumbling slabs
bandaged with loose ribbons of vine
swaddled in moss, the occasional sentry
frowning in shades of decrepit stone

year round
in the park
vivaldi

solitude—
just the flap
of wings

I scribbled something,
planning to tear up my fan—
but parting was sad!