Be Brave! September Haiku Wrap Up

Every month when I review my haikus from the previous few weeks, I think “there’s no way I can post that! It’s too X.” Fill in the blank: too personal, too sad, too obscure, too depressing, too much. So, I go through them and edit and delete a few that don’t seem ready yet for the world at large. I’ve done some of that this morning with this group. But, I’ve also been listening to Sara Bareilles’ song Brave.

What would happen if we all let the words fall out honestly? This song also inspired one of my haikus which came to me as I was studying on the deck last month, enjoying the sunshine and reading about gender roles (there’s a rabbit hole that will require an entire series of blog posts).

I am embracing Brave–here are my words, as they fell out of me these past few weeks:

I gifted you with
A river of words. Language
In which we might drown.

Follow this tattered
Thread. My worn out and used up
Words. Can we mend us?

In this race against
Time, no judge, no jury. Just
The clock. Tick tock tick.

You read me like a
Favorite book, turned each page,
And savored my words.

We created some
Thing we wasted–it became
Some nothing again

Daddy’s little girl
Drops the old man’s hand and her
Heart turns into stone

Fighter jets and blue
Herons vying for sky space
Competing contrails

We each have our own
Calvary–those hilltops where
Our innocence dies

We had something and
Now we have nothing–what dark
Magic did we weave?

Sadness envelops
Me, an uncomfortable
Cocoon. A tight frame.

Hope is riding shot
Gun–we’re mapless and lost in
Uncharted terrain

Race. Class. Gender roles.
We are bound by smaller minds–
Too tiny, too tight

How big is your brave?
Could you be homo, bi, trans?
Are you strong enough?

Finding the Balance in Running and Life

As I write this, I can feel my IT band screaming, and there’s a sensitive spot on my left foot that I think is frostbite, a reminder that perhaps I over-iced yesterday, slightly panicked that I may be getting a touch of plantar fasciitis (please let it not be so). I’m concerned about the half marathon coming up next weekend. I’ve just turned in my final paper for this quarter, and I’m frustrated that I’ve not written a haiku in days.

Funny how life turns out. Last year at this time, I wasn’t running or writing psychotherapy papers or penning haiku. I wasn’t even thinking about such things. Now, I can’t imagine life without any of these activities.

Last weekend I ran the Fairhaven Runners Waterfront 15K. I placed second in my age group. About a month earlier, I entered a 5K race/fundraiser for Alzheimer’s, Miles for Memories. I finished first overall in the women’s division.fairhaven_runners_waterfron_15kfirst place

I did not set out to be a racer. I certainly did not set out to run fast or to finish anywhere near the front of the pack. I don’t start a race thinking about how I am going to finish, just that I hope I will finish and that I want to enjoy the run. Now that I’ve had some success with running, I’m beginning to second-guess myself. Whereas I used to just get up in the morning and go for a run, now I wonder if I should go long or short, fast or slow, run hills or flat? Should I ice or soak in Epsom salts? Will taking a day off now hurt or help me in my next event? Am I a poser?

Recently I find myself pondering that place between unconsciousness and deliberation, between being ignorantly blissful (or blissfully ignorant) and calculating. I know I compare writing and running quite often, but again, I find the similarities enlightening. At the beginning of this year, I started writing haikus with abandon. I traded them back and forth with friends, posted them to the Haiku Room on Facebook and just enjoyed the experience. Until I started getting attention for them. Then I started overthinking and performing, writing haikus for an audience, and that’s when my haiku writing came to a halt. I got stuck. I became too aware.

Now, I fear the same thing happening with running. I want to just run, but at the same time, I am extremely proud of my accomplishments. And, I have to say, I totally dig winning medals and ribbons, but I don’t want running to be just about that. I want my running to be about health and happiness, connection and community.

I want to go about life consciously, full of awareness, and making good choices, but what happens when that awareness interferes with spontaneity? When overthinking causes indecision and indecision results in immobility? How can we strike a balance and just run happy?fairhaven15K_medal

Doin’ the Blog Hop

Way back in April, my writer friend and fellow AROHO attendee and Haiku Room contributor Lisa Rizzo invited me to a blog hop. Unfortunately, the timing of that blog hop coincided with the first week of graduate school and I never had the chance to write that blog. Earlier this week, my good friend Cami Ostman accepted an invitation to a blog hop, and though she didn’t explicitly invite me to participate, she did list my blog as one of three that she “keeps an eye on.” Both of these women inspire me and when I read Cami’s blog I realized with dismay that I’d never completed my commitment to Lisa. Then today I got a ping from my good writing buddy and recently published author Kari (Rhymes with Safari) Neumeyer asking me to participate in her blog hop. I am honored and yes! I will participate. Thank you for the invites ladies.

The various blogs had different questions, so I present to you a bit of a mash up:

What are you working on?
I am happy to report that I just finished my second paper for this quarter, this one for my Systems Perspectives in Family Therapy class, entitled (hang on to your hats, kids, this is really exciting) “The Butterfly Effect: Looking at Strategic Therapy Through a Dynamic Systems Lens.” So happy to have that one wrapped up. My pal Linda read it this evening and said that while it wasn’t my finest bit of creative writing, I’d done a heckuva job making an academic topic easy to understand. I’ll take that. A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a personal reflection paper for my Human Development in Context, Gender: A Lifespan Perspective course, entitled “A Heavy Gaze: My Gender Identity Development. “ I’m still pondering posting that paper to my blog—I found it much more difficult to write than I had anticipated as it touched on some very personal (and deeply seated) experiences. Between my papers for the Licensed Mental Health Counselor (LMHC) program in which I am enrolled, I dabble in haiku and non-fiction essay writing via my blog. I do, of course, still have the proverbial “book in the bottom drawer,” my memoir to which Kari referred that I pull out occasionally to work on. Mostly though, I just think about it and pilfer material from it for my personal reflection essays for school.

Why do you write what you do?
I write to make sense of my world. I know that sounds cliché, and I think Joan Didion said it first (and more eloquently, perhaps), but it’s true. Everything I write, academic papers included, puts my life in some perspective. The two essays I’ve had anthologized deal with my experiences as a lesbian and how I struggled (and still struggle) to make that identity work for me in a world that would prefer I be something than who I authentically am. I write haikus to make sense of daily occurences—quick, distilled sense of individual moments. My blog is a sort of sounding board where I put stuff up that I’ve been pondering to see if it makes sense to other people as well. Also, I write because I totally dig feedback. I love people’s reaction to my writing—I want to read and hear what they think about what I’ve written, the questions I raise, the points I make.

How does my writing process work?
I loved Cami’s answer to this question—she wrote about her very literal process, from blocking out the time on the calendar to putting her butt in the chair. For me, my writing begins with a niggling idea in the back of my head, a thought that won’t go away and begins to gain traction. I am a poor scheduler—I write when I feel so moved, when that idea can’t be contained in my head any longer. Then I pull out my laptop and sit my butt in the chair. That’s my process for essays/blogs anyway. With haiku, I’m more intentional. I write in my journal or, just as often, on my iPhone’s notepad application, and jot down a word or a phrase that has caught my attention. Then I word map/free associate and jot down related words or images. I try to think in metaphors and similes when I write haiku. Of course I count syllables. Occasionally, a haiku will come to me as if the heavens have opened up and the angels are singing the Alleluia chorus, but that’s rare. Exciting, but not very reliable.

Where do you like to write?
I am most productive when I write at home. I write a surprising amount of haiku while I’m in bed, either before I go to sleep or first thing in the morning. As I type this blog, I am in bed, in fact. That said, I am a very social writer. I prefer to write with friends in coffee shops around town or at our local independent movie theater, The Pickford where they have a nice selection of beverages and inexpensive popcorn. I like to be out and about—I begin to chafe if I am alone with myself for too long.

What are your favorite books to give as gifts?
For baby showers, I always give Anne Lamott’s Operating Instructions. Other than that, it really depends on the person. I like to give books that will speak to the recipient. Mary Doria Russell’s The Sparrow and Children of God are probably the ones I would give most often—they are absolutely one-of-a-kind books. Practically indescribable and altogether brilliant.

Three blogs—besides Kari’s, Cami’s, and Lisa’s—that I read regularly (but with whom I have not discussed a blog hop):

Jolene’s Life in Focus—Jolene takes amazing photographs and writes just as well. Her blog is a wonderful combination of travel adventure and photography. She has a great eye and is a funny, astute writer. We met in a memoir class and continue to meet regularly to write and to talk about writing and her memoir, Spirited Away which chronicles her adventures across Ireland.

Hooked: One Woman at Sea Trolling for Truth—I met my friend Tele in memoir class as well. Her book, with the same name as her blog, is forthcoming from Riverhead Books in the next year. When she’s not fishing in Alaska, she makes her home in Bellingham. A self-described feminist, yoga-posing, vegetarian, tree-hugging fisherman, Tele is warmth and grace personified, qualities that show up in her writing as well as in her life.

Jennifer Wilke—Jennifer is another Bellinghamster who writes with wit and courage about caregiving for her aging mother. Her blog is full of poignant and humorous moments—insights in the most difficult moments. She is also working diligently on a Civil War novel, The Color of Prayer, based on her great-grandfather’s letters.

More Procrastination Poetry: A Few Forgotten Haiku from July

Yesterday procrastination worked very well for me. After fiddle farting around on my blog, I got down to business and cranked out some good pages for my paper that is due tomorrow. I am hoping the same magic will happen today. I still need to put a few finishing touches on said paper, add some APA citations, and give it a good thorough edit. Perhaps I will post it when I’ve finished. It’s about how my gender identity has developed over the course of my lifetime. Pretty interesting, this unpacking of gender.

I’d rather be writing poetry, but these four forgotten haiku will have to do for now. Enjoy 🙂

What happens if I
Catch the muse, pin her down, make
Her my specimen?

She deposited beach
Words like coins, some IOUs
A cold heart’s ransom

Muse comes, muse goes, but
I own her wand, her wings. I
Am muse. She is me.

I am my only
Competition. The race is
Simple. Head v. heart

Procrastination Poetry: July Haiku Wrap-Up

I should be writing a paper for my Gender Development class—six to eight pages “telling your story of how your gender identity has developed across your lifespan thus far.” Alas, I’m procrastinating. Funny, how the assignments I think will be easy turn out to be the most difficult. Instead of writing about my non-gender conforming ways, I thought I would share some of my July haikus instead.

I’ve not been terribly prolific—not quite back up to one a day, but I have managed to cobble together a handful of decent poems this month. A few have to do with running—since I ran my first half-marathon a week and a half ago; some to do with writing, and most to do with life in general.

Enjoy!

How hard must I wish,
To conjure your words from air?
Eyes shut. Hands open.

(I know, I already put this one in a blog, but I really like it, so it bears repeating)

We dwell here between
Words, beyond voice, in this our
Violent silence

Early morning run–
Lightning fast feet, pounding heart.
What’s ahead? Behind?

Catch and release these
Vivid fantasies. Unhook,
Swim fast, silver flash.

On the precipice
Staring into the void–what
Happens if I leap?

Some Sundays digging
In the dirt is more sacred
Than going to church

How many poems
Must I write to get to your
Chewy soft center?

These words, my breadcrumbs,
A crafty trail I’ve contrived
For you to follow

An itch I can’t scratch
That’s what you are, embedded
Deep. Unreachable.

Nights like this your words
Arrived on moonbeams, dancing–
Spinning into memoonbeam_1

Super moon rises–
Feel gravity’s pull and the
Tsunami’s release

Super moon rises
Between Mt Baker and the
Endless sky. Listen.

Seven hundred miles
Logged since January–I’m
Running for my life!

Distill it down to
Seventeen syllables: Life
And Love. Poetry.

Thirteen point one miles
First ever half marathon
One step at a time!

Facebook lives or Face
Book lies? What deeper truths lurk
Beneath these facades?

Do you ever walk
Alone or lonely, keeping
Pace with your own heart?

Hardcover Haiku

I started to post this Sunday night, but whenever I added an image to my blog, WordPress seemed to just drop it willy-nilly where ever, and my blog post looked so disorganized and slovenly, I couldn’t in good conscience go live with it. My intention was to post a step-by-step look at how I made my hardcover Haiku Love book, but I also wanted you to be able to follow along, Dear Reader. I had to conduct a few hours of research in order to bring you this blog. Hopefully, my newfound skill with HTML tables will be sufficient to show you how I made my book.

book_nans_hands final cover done
TLW reading Haiku Love The finished front cover

The first step in the process is printing out the poems. Sometimes, when I have plenty of time and lots of patience, I hand stamp the poems. But today I had neither time nor patience, and I wanted the book to look a bit more polished, so I decided to print it out on some Arches watercolor paper. I had already done the layout in Word last weekend before I uploaded it to KDP, so I just needed to cut out the paper to 4×6 inches and load up the printer tray.

After printing out page 1 and 2 back to back, I realized I was going to need to adjust the margins so that the odd numbered pages had a one inch margin on the left and the even pages had a one inch margin on the right, if I wanted to print on both sides.

intropage pages1

I printed all of the odd pages first, with a wide left margin, then flipped the paper over in the printer, adjusted the margins for a wide right margin, and printed all of the even pages. Amazingly, it worked! All of the pages came out in the right order and right side up. I was ready to start working on the cover.

bookboard1 paintbookboard
I cut out the book board I paint the book board

While the paint dried, I got out my carved blocks and ink so I could make some more prints of the Cheiko Rei symbol to glue to the book cover so it more closely resembled the cover on the ebook version. I really only needed one print, but it’s not easy to ink up the brayer for just one print, so I made a few.

ink2 stampandink
prestamp many stamps

While the paint and ink dried for the cover, I turned my attention back to the pages and the binding. Bindings are always tricky–I prefer to make books with actual covers that open and attach to the pages, but this is not easy with handmade books. I decided to do a combination: a Japanese stab binding to keep the pages together initially, that I would then combine with a screwed down cover. In order for the cover to open, I needed to use book paper to attach the parts of the cover. But first, I had to make the holes in the pages for the stab binding.

awl holes
I use an awl and a rubber mallet Clamps keep the pages in place
stitched2 stiched
I use the book press to hold the pages I tie off the binding with a square knot 

Now it is time to assemble all of the pieces. I use rubber stamps and archival dye ink to stamp the title and my name onto the cover, and I use rubber cement to attach the book paper to the cover. My friend Susie the art teacher taught me how to properly apply rubber cement–maybe everyone knows this, but I didn’t. First I coat both surfaces with the glue, let it dry and THEN press the pieces together for a tight adhesion. I have to be very careful to make sure everything is aligned before pressing it all down, though.

early cover cover with binding
I end up having to paint over my name
as I’ve not left enough room on the left
for the book paper.
Below, end paper makes it look more finished
I add a touch of red paint to break up
the unrelenting black
inside cover

I wish I had more pictures of my process. I get so wrapped up in the process, in the creative problem-solving as I go along, that I forget to stop and document what I’m doing. The final step is a bit unorthodox, but effective for my needs. I align the previously bound pages between the covers, clamp it down (using scrap book board to protect the cover from the clamps and to make for clean holes), and drill two holes for the screws I will use to finish the binding process. I love the way the screws look on the binding.

final cover done back of book
The front cover The back cover–sadly I inadvertently
flipped the cover before I drilled and
ended up with the inside being out and
with the much nicer outside being in.
Always check your work!

I was pretty happy with the way this turned out–but, always the perfectionist, I printed out two more sets of pages yesterday and built another cover. It turned out okay, but still is a long way from the finished product I have in my imagination. The paper I used in this version is really too stiff for the binding I started out trying to use, so I had to improvise. I ended up drilling holes that I then couldn’t use and had to cut off. I had to abandon my original cover idea and ended up with this three-ring improvisation. It’s not great, but for the stiff paper, it works. Stay tuned for further versions (and more documentation).

two haiku books second haiku book 1
second haiku book 2 second haiku book 3

Haiku’s Slow Return

They are coming, the words, the syllables. Slowly, five-seven-five. Here are a few of the latest:

Muse
How hard must I wish,
To conjure your words from air?
Eyes shut. Hands open.

Life Now
Hot flashes, fever
Spontaneous combustion.
Sweep up my ashes.

Knowing
They knew no better
Trapped as they were by their times.
How will we be judged?

Dreams
It occurs to me
This is just fantasy. Still.
Possibility.

Happy Birthday Haikus

I’ll need thicker skin
If I’m going to keep this heart
On my sleeve alive

That’s it. That is the only haiku I’ve written in the past month or so.  After five months of what seemed to be inspired, non-stop poetry, the words have ceased flowing. Nothing makes sense. The metaphors seem forced, the similes thin. My haiku muse has abandoned me.

I supposed I should be grateful to have been smiled upon at all, thankful for the time we had, the syllables she gifted me, but I’m a little bitter. I thought I had a connection, a gift, a deal with the universe. If it would give me the words, I would write the poems.

But nothing in this life is guaranteed and I am grateful to have had the 120 or so haikus I wrote between January and the end of April.

Today is my 51st birthday and I want my gift to be the return of my poetry. Here are a few of my favorites in the hope I will be re-inspired:

A ribbon of words
Unfurls and I have written
The way to my heart

If I exhale words
Will you breathe deeply and find
Tattoos on your heart?

Words spark and ignite
Tender tinder, dry fuel
Strike a careful match

Play me for a fool
Or like a Spanish guitar.
My heartstrings. Your song.

Knead me with language
Release these tightly coiled
Naked emotions

Tired of falling in?
There’s a path without that hole.
Today I’ll walk there.

Starved for language and
Famished, I crave the constant
Conversation. Words.

Look. Hold the moon’s gaze
And feel gravity’s release—
Float away on waves.

Y is for Yes!

Last November, Bellingham hosted its very first TEDx event, Here by Choice. Many terrific speakers made this an unforgettable day and though I didn’t plan ahead well enough to attend in person, I did watch most of it via live stream on the Intertubes. I was inspired, moved, educated, motivated.

One talk still resonates with me these many months later: Galen Emanuele’s Improv to be a Better Human Being which you can watch here.  I didn’t come away from watching Galen thinking I would make a great sidekick to Wayne Brady, Drew Carey, or Ryan Stiles. I came away with a newfound respect for the power of the word Yes.

Galen begins his talk by asking the audience a few simple questions: would you want to increase joy in your life if you could? Do you have someone in your life, who, when you tell them you are going on vacation, they say “aw man, you suck!” Is there someone else who shoots down every passionate idea you come up with?

Negativity, Galen tells us, sucks the energy right out of great ideas. Saying no halts progress and destroys an idea. According to Galen, the principles of improv offer a better approach. Improv depends on the principle of “yes, and” and operate on a handful of basic tenets:

  • Say yes
  • Make others look good
  • Be positive and optimistic

When I finished watching Galen’s presentation (back in November and just now, for a refresher), I determined that I would begin the New Year with a commitment to saying yes. I decided I would not let no be my default answer, the first response that crossed my mind and my lips.

Saying yes can be scary. The first thing I consciously said yes to was to The Haiku Room—Yes, I would accept the invitation offered and agree to write a haiku a day for the entirety of 2014. I’d never written a line of poetry in my life. I did not see myself as any kind of poet. What if I failed? What if the real poets laughed at me? I said yes anyway, in spite of my fears. Now, I cannot imagine these past four months without my haiku family, real and virtual. What a gift saying yes to haiku has been.

The next thing I consciously said yes to was an invitation from my friend Cami to run in a 10K race the first weekend of January. I hadn’t been running in four months as I was trying to recover from some heel injuries, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to jumpstart my way back into running with a 6 mile race. And Cami runs marathons—I’d never be able to keep up. She cajoled and then I remembered my commitment to say yes. I had a great race—I loved running with Cami, and that run launched me to another level of running. We finished that run in about an hour and 7 minutes.

My friend April is training for a half marathon next week and asked if I wanted to do her long training runs with her. I’d never run more than seven miles, but I said yes to a 9 mile run, and then I said yes to an 11 mile run. I just ran a 10K this weekend in 54 minutes because I said yes to running this year.

Not everything that I’ve said yes to has turned out to be amazing and awesome, but nothing has been awful either. I’ve had experiences I wouldn’t have otherwise had. I’ve stepped way, way, way outside of my comfort zone and discovered that, huh, nothing bad happened. I survived no worse for the wear and maybe even a little wiser.

I’ve made friends. I’ve written more than 50 blogs (because I said yes to two blog challenges) and more than a hundred haikus. I’ve discovered that I can run around Lake Padden twice and even three times and that really, it’s not a bad run from Squalicum Harbor to Fairhaven Park and back again. I’ve learned that I can be honest, tell my truth, stand my ground and that the world will not crumble. In fact, just the opposite happens—I find renewed strength and support.

So, give Yes a try—commit to saying yes, to being positive, to building others up. I highly recommend it. Take 12 minutes and watch Galen Emanuele’s TEDx Talk—say yes. You’ll be glad you did: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VhkcmN-CCYw

X is for April Haiku Review

I cannot believe that April is almost over and I’ve spent another month writing haikus (and daily blogs). Again, so many of these haikus defy explanation—I will try to give some insight into as many as I can. Some, though, just pop into my head fully formed. Others I get pieces of and have to then work out the remaining syllables. Occasionally, I will sit down with a topic in mind—generally these poems turn out to be the ones that sound the most forced, the least authentic.

So, as promised, here’s a haiku that begins with the letter X (which is the letter for today’s blog):

X—a crooked cross,
Sideways marks the spot, and, drawn,
Erases me gone

X can stand for so many things—ex, as in former. A place to stand. A place to dig. A spot. A signature. X’d out, as in erased.

My heart’s flame burns white-
hot blue tongues arise, dancing,
Seek your oxygen

Poetry sparked and
Ignited passionate fire–
Stark truth doused that flame

This one came directly out of Jake Ballard’s mouth on Scandal one night a couple of weeks ago, after Olivia tricked him into sleeping with her so she could get her hands on his phone. I just wrote it so that it lined up 5-7-5:

Tell me you felt it
Too. Tell me I’m not crazy.
Tell me you were there

The Little Woman and I were born under the same sign—we’re both Geminis, so when I read my horoscope in the morning, I’m reading hers as well:

Every day I
Read my horoscope and yours–
Astral projection

This year I seem to have a huge amount of pent up energy that I keep trying to expend through running and writing and now, school. So I wrote these:

I’ll sleep when I die–
Til I’m exhausted, weary.
Sounds good in theory

Wet sneakers pound through
puddles, toes shriveling, cold.
Insidious rain.

I woke up on Easter morning and this came to me, fully formed. It is one of my favorites:

Whatever tomb has
You trapped–Push away that stone,
Step into the light

I woke up another morning just wanting to write a haiku in Latin. I’ve never even studied Latin, but there it was, this desire I think to break out of the limits of the language I know, the desire for more meaning, maybe. I had to resort to Google, and it’s not exactly the right amount of syllables, but good enough:

Verba volant
Cor ad cor loquitur
Clavis aurea

(spoken words fly away
heart speaks to heart
golden key)

I struggle often with what to write, what parts of my story, my life belong to me and what parts of my story belong to others. I’ve written blogs that have upset people in my life—these haiku deal with finding that line, that balance between speaking my truth and revealing someone else’s:

Truths stuck on my tongue
Peeled off, now forced to drain through
The nib of my pen

I beg forgiveness
again for speaking my truth—
Is my story mine?

The scales tip toward
truth, and compassion falters–
Elusive balance

How does the writer
tell her story, pen her truth?
Dull the sharp edges?

Truth wants to vibrate
up and out in minor chords.
A sharp dissonance

Warrior woman
Draws her word sword, aware it’s
Double-edged, dang’rous

More on writing—this first one seems pretty self-explanatory. Here’s a whole series of haiku on writing into silence. Sometimes all I want from my writing is a reaction, feedback, someone on the other end to acknowledge my words. I don’t need cheers and accolades always (though occasionally that sort of feedback is awesome), but it’s difficult to write into silence, day in and day out. I don’t care for it much. My frustration seems pretty clear here:

Some days the words must
be pried piecemeal from dry earth
dusted off, washed clean

Looking for Divine
but finding only silence–
The great unlearning.

I have to escape
great silences, vast chasms
echoing within.

I can’t keep birthing
Words into silence. These are
Boisterous children

I’m pushing my words
Into silence and meeting
Resistance. Friction.

Your silence echoes
Through my canyons of desire–
Freshly gouged and deep

My words like wafers–
communion offered, received,
Ingested. Some Truth.

My sentences, like
Wine. Drink from the blood rivers.
exanguination

These paragraphs, my
soul. Transubstantiation.
Sacrifice. Rebirth.

These poems take a little liberty with the haiku form:

(Sorry–)
I just meant to tug
that one thread, not to make the
whole thing unravel

(Can we–)
Mend this ragged edge
Knitting word bones together–
Follow this thread home?

Please do not invite 
me in and then abandon
me at the threshold

What lives behind the 
sets we construct, the masks we
wear? Step off the stage.

Mudslide

Nature knows no bounds—
Follows her own path toward
wreckage, renewal

Oso Strong. Forty-
three gongs of the bell between
Amazing Grace and Taps
.

This last one also came to me one morning, after I woke up from a vivid dream and starting writing about how someone so far in my past could occupy any space in my head while I was sleeping. It didn’t seem fair. This is the haiku I ended up writing, not quite where I started, but it turned out to be a favorite:

See this hotel in
My heart? Revolving door for
Itinerant guests