When the water and sand dance, whence (whence?) their music? What is that music? What sense, what composition surfs itself in? Yes, the water — its bazillion droplets, the mini-jetsam line it etches. Yes, the sand — its gazillion granules, the sponging gauze-and-muslin of… Continue Reading “When the Water and Sand Dance”
~ A Ghazal On the train to Rome, cigar smoke clouds my window; people eat mortadella and a porter sells gum and mints. I travel to a sacred place, discover a broken latch. In prayers of my own device, I have questions. We know… Continue Reading “Unhinged”
Sunday — September clouds trail the hillsides, misty fingers and thighs Monday — pancakes a little burned, gold leaves spend all their luck on scent Tuesday — you, a splash of yellow – you, the sun in the brook, our legs twined like branches… Continue Reading “Daybook”
Want to join us on a literary ecology adventure?
At low tide I walk the sandbar Far out to sea Out to islands Of gulls and cormorants Leaving distant dots of people on shore. Terns dart and swoop Sandpipers race the tide The sea breathes Each wave exhales into the next. Immersed in… Continue Reading “Low Tide”
We are thrilled to announce that Wishbones, haiku & senryu by Ben Moeller-Gaa with calligraphy by JS Graustein, has won The Haiku Foundation’s Touchstone Distinguished Book Award 2018. We would like to thank The Haiku Foundation for all they do to support English-language Japanese-form… Continue Reading “Wishbones Wins a National Award”
a tanka sequence first light of the eastern sun igniting the dust on my face: cowardice barefoot from land to land we search for pristine soil that satiates our souls bells tolling on the necks of camels this rhythm takes our deep silence to… Continue Reading “Caravan”
Help us explore the world this year.
It was a return trip, a bucket list type of thing. My memories had faded of this city, home of a favorite author, full of amazing architecture and wonderful food. A steamboat sung and paddled on the Mississippi, memories of the riverbank quickly replaced… Continue Reading “Naw’leans Revisited”
six minutes after dawn to the west of moonset in rolling Pennsylvania hills a full moon eclipses in the east where sunrise burns red setting daughter passes rising mother paths cross coming and going un-blue-moon drops from jet ink heights through blazing white light… Continue Reading “new moon, old ways”