summer rain
a cold knife through
hot butter

floating on a fog of exhaust dead obsidian suv

"green feathers against green leaves hovering hawk on a branch" a poem typewritten on an index card in a slight visual poetry style with a bit of a wood grain border

ceiling fan
a slight sway
pear tree

greasy cardboard box
a closet shelf

leaves shaking still air stirred fan blades

(The) Doors

a rainbow of emoji hearts

Love 8:12
open the door
of forever change

psychedelic pill
in the pepper mill

pine bark, rough, artifically tinted green like crocodile skin, offset to the far right of a narrow, horizontal rectangle

crocodile skinned pine
through the door
to fireflies

I quite like the poem Door in the Mountain by Jean Valentine

a screen shot of the poem Door in the Mountain by Jean Valentine: Never ran this hard through the valley never ate so many stars  
I was carrying a dead deer tied on to my neck and shoulders. 
deer legs hanging in front of me heavy on my chest  
People are not wanting to let me in  
Door in the mountain let me in

a brush pen abstraction of a door with two sidelights, the frame propped against it

& the doorframe
propped, a kickstand
for lease facade rot

a less abstract brush pen drawing of a door with two sidelights, the frame propped against it

I also quite like the poem Losing A Language from The Trees Witness Everything by Victoria Chang

losing a language by Victoria Chang:  
We were born with a  
large door on our backs. When will  
we know it if opens?

Maybe I have a thing for door poems…

a wingding heart and the empty rectangles of missing characters, a rainbow made grayscale and uniform

a yellow background with black text and an upside down image of a toad amongst sundry tree debris that says: lost dog do not chase numerology (a haiku, kind of)

watching my heart
in my foot

_a good poem about moonlight, and more_

chicken bird
fossil feud
flying through
the hand drawn archives
of and child like curiosity

dishwasher advancing and retreating on the ears thank you you’re welcome

raindrops glass fly’s eye of headlights

rolling over the tracks

Hi-Q: an end / a beginning

Today (April 2, 2022) is the 3 year anniversary of Hi-Q as a daily project. Of this specific instance of my haiku obsession, er, journey.

Today is also the end of this particular incarnation of that obsession (for now?). After somewhere around 1,100 consuctive days of Hi-Q (if my math is correct).

I started entertaining the thought the other day, and then realized that day happened to be the 3 year anniversary of the Instagram post that kicked this whole thing off.

Hi-Q will live on, but in new formats and experiments. My immediate, post-daily poem plans are to organize the archives and create some book-like objects to house them. It’s something I’ve been meaning and wanting to do for a while, so now is the time. Plus, I might learn some things that come in handy for future Hi-Q experiments.

What are these new experiments and formats I keep hinting at? Haven’t the foggiest! But I think the broadstroke ideas fall into three general categories:

  • Collections (zines, books, pamphlets, cycles, vignettes, etc.).
  • Physical artifacts (typewriter art pieces, textile, paint, landscape works, who knows)
  • Digitally-native artifacts (podcast, audio poems, animated pieces, hyperlink works, pieces that can only exist because of technology)

I also just want to read, think, and write more about haiku, not just make haiku. I think I hit a point where the daily aspect of this current version became more primary than the haiku portion. I need to disrupt that habitual rhythm in order to explore (I already feel more excited about and creative with haiku again since making this decision).

Over the past few years of doing this I’ve collected a group of questions that will likely lead my future experiments. They are:

  • What is a modern haiku? What makes a haiku modern?
  • What is a punk haiku?
  • What would be a future haiku? What pushes the form/genre forward?
  • What would a mixed media haiku look/feel/sound/smell/taste like?
  • What would make a haiku web-native?
  • How does haiku, as an art form, remain timeless while also being timely? (Doesn’t it seem like a form created for the current age?)
  • The most existential: what is haiku?
  • And, probably the biggest one: am I good enough to get published?

All that to say, things around here will be different, but they will still be haiku.

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spring softening winter’s sharp edges

once bare
soften under spring sun

spring young on the branches summer’s haze rising on the horizon

petals popping open
riot of roadside color

red buds brushing the blue sky hawk's wing

the depth of field

fake fly fuzz

double taking
fake fly
in death repose

blue picking through the shells bird

spring blues
the bird empties the feeder
the bird, the empty feeder

in the breeze mistaking a treetop for water

leaves rippling
reflected sunlight
water feature?

compost bin brewing a heady broth honeyed foil

cast off
mirepoix under
the coffee grounds

box's shadow boxing the boxwood(')s in the breeze

shadow boxing
box’s shadow

hawks  gray clouds  thoughts of rain all hover

hawks hover above
clouds heavy
with promise of rain
gray clouds
heavy with rain
hawks hover above

cat grin moon over an alarm of birds

sing home
the stars

flowers in the south wind's hair

baseball bat song
in the red bud

first day of spring in the feeder nothing but shells

spring arrives
to find
what the birds
left behind

lots around you it’s the eyes you can’t see that are magic

the eyes
through other eyes
lane shift

pear blossoms in the rain in the squirrel’s stomach

in the rain
pear blossoms
in the squirrel’s stomach