(Coeden Ar Yr Mynydd) tick-tick- as the motor cools startled sheep voice silence We sit motionless for quite a while, absorbed in that sens...

. high on my da's shoulders i was no more than five into the bar we went and i carrying the beer bucket the barman calling out beer...he...

. "I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils…" . Theodore Roethke * . I have a job, but am sometimes out of work. I try to si...

. After two semesters of graduate school I haven't gotten a single date with any of the smart, pretty young women who I correctly assume...

. The Great Dividing Range rises straight ahead from the valley floor. That abrupt counterpoint of rugged mountain tops leads us through Cun...

. I’m grating onions for latkes and the tears are streaming down my face and I know that despite my best efforts tears have been falling int...

. The fusion is near seamless. Around the mouth and eyes is where I first detect it. Then when she nervously flicks a long slender tongue in...

. On a visit to my friend, Tom, I get to see his new apartment for the first time since he split from his wife. It”s a nice two bedroom plac...

. Breezes pick up beach sand, palm fronds, and food-wrappings, smashing them against the walls, poles and billboards. Drivers roll up window...

. interview with Jeffrey Woodward . Stanley Pelter, born in London in 1936, attended Wimbledon College of Art and, after a three year interv...

. sounds detach empty birds disappear and buttercups close so i will wait for U in the garden ~ sit in the garden that has just been watered...

. ridge of cloud beneath softest of hills hint of fish Ridges of Beinn Bhreac, Mullach Buidhe, Beinn Bharrain, unsullied by the permanence o...

. from bialystok from bialystok from bialystok . from bialystok is from bialystok is from bialystok is . . from bialystok to from bialystok ...

. his boot noise at the sea edge silent oyster search . . he left home to learn how to. try as he might and, some say, even harder than that...

. . . . on the road our ‘dummy’ book in a raffia bag we discuss the photos for our latest collaboration – by the steps of the printer’s hous...

. Returning to the city after a spell in retreat, I received a call for help from an old friend. He was going away for five weeks and needed...

. Sharp, dark shadows cut severe edges. Her voice tinkles like a cat collar bell as she minces past, head tilted into her cell phone convers...

. In the Salinas Valley rivers go upside down, seasons come backwards, and folks first grow old and then turn young. . Fools rush in. . But ...

. Near Basin Lane, a tethered pony noses a circle of bare earth. Crystals of glass from a shattered windscreen sparkle in the gutter. On the...

. Four months ago, I launched this journal to provide a needed venue for haibun and for dialogue about the genre. I sought as well to build ...

. Beyond the drawn curtain of jagged pines, earthen-red rooftops are the stepping stones to a sparkling expanse of cerulean in the near dist...

. by Patricia Prime . Jim Kacian lives in Winchester, Virginia and is co-founder of the World Haiku Association and owner of Red Moon Press....