watching my heart
metronome
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
rain
trains
clouds

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

branches
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


buds
redden
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
unflappable

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

birds
sing home
the stars

flowers in the south wind's hair

baseball bat song
in the red bud
breeze

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

hunting for four-leafs sweet mustard

pumpkin patch
in the sourdough
soda bread

after the rain cloud prism behind bars

prismatic cloud
changing light
and clocks

blackened steel shaped to an unformed ear corn products

traincar
loudly announcing
its corn products

our 1 value resource 63 feet white space

63 feet
of mixed messages
big rig

driving through the mist under the water tower

the weight of water

77 signs blossoming, orange warning

roadwork signs
like wildflowers
in the scrub

the groundhog popping up by the road

watching for brake lights
the groundhog
looks on