. Call for Submissions . Modern Haibun & Tanka Prose . Issue 1. Summer 2009 . You are invited to submit haibun and tanka prose for the ...

Surprising how a little windfall can change things. Five years of walking the walk can soon become a stagger. Not that I am complaining, for...

. The Note-taking Habit Assistant Editor: Patricia Prime I have been turning the pages of a thick octavo notebook tied with rubber bands and...

I have a friend write a note in Chinese explaining that eight days ago I had hernia surgery and the stitches need to be removed. Rather than...

. Once upon a time —When was it? Ah, when was it not!— there was a young man who roamed the world making his living with stories and songs. ...

I assess the shadows beneath her eyes, evident since the first day of this semester. The sandy blonde pelt of her head is as matted as the t...

… another year .... yet still green ............................ —the ginkgo leaves ..... fall from my notebook … *** 24.10.97: Kew. A morn...

. A chill in the air, a slowing down, the gradual browning of the earth, but first, there is a party, a celebration, a carnival, complete wi...

I hear her voice from time to time on the answering service—a call directed to our daughter. Like a remembered song, her rhythms and tone mi...

Tired. That’s after hoisting her portly 33-pound red and white basset hound puppy up the 13-step flight. The Brute sprained his right front ...

Packing for a trip to Thailand to celebrate my wife's 50th birthday, I come across my late brother's swimsuit. I've had it for a...

The county road peters out in the parking lot of a lobster pound but the land keeps going, jutting into the bay. To get to the summer cottag...

The Tanka Prose Anthology . Edited with an Introduction by Jeffrey Woodward. Baltimore, MD: Modern English Tanka Press, 2008. ISBN: 978-0-98...

. A day when I pack a sandwich, sit on the beach—a day in which I hypostatize God in a flash of lightning, too far off for sound; in a woma...

It could be that there is a hole nearby, its entrance hidden by untended grasses. And time, like a steady limpid stream, is flowing into its...

Don’t come another inch closer, I mean it. What gall to show up here like this today without an invitation, to steal away my summer (and all...

In a recurring dream I am opening a toybox, or sometimes it’s a cupboard, to rummage through mounds of toys that are unfamiliar, though all ...

lift off— the dash to business class for empty seats 40,000 feet over Cambodia, heading home. One thing the flight crew neglected in going o...

. You speak German? She asks while biting her lower lip in faux perplexity while staring at the well-worn splayed cover of Traktat über krit...

want to listen, want to hear what this chair is saying to that. feel here is a once-in-a-lifetime chance of over-hearing table wood communic...

a trowel probes the stones of the lost city— and then the sun Something Freudian about it, this digging up the past. As I watch the excavato...

. I’m invited to come and visit Japan. Everything, no doubt, will be taken care of. Still, I never travel by air, drive on the autobahn or b...

I dreamed that a group of wild boars— des sangliers —were drinking from the stone water basin in my garden. One of them, unusually large and...

I’m bent over a mass of red, orange and gold crotons, pruning away dead leaves among the long shadows. There are no flashes of exotic flower...

after Takuboku Ishikawa in the weeping willows of Takuboku's tanka kanji leaves hang . . . hear the soughing of Takuboku's words Set...