welcome to the haikutimes
Issue #10 Sunshine Canyon, Colorado September 8, 2001
featuring: Patrick Lynn, Jonathan Machen, Sanjay Rajan, Susan
Peterson, Krista Morien, Robert Power. photos and layout: Jonathan Machen
the wind spirit
plays the harp softly
in the quiet wilderness
the icosahedron
mutates to the fabulous
dodecahedron
counting syllables or
listen to drizzling snow melt
i stand and listen
soft thud
of the melting snow
then quiet again
like the shifting clouds
all i want to write about
are my emotions
melting snow
tracing down my neck
then goose bumps
a thud behind me
i turn my head to see
a branch free of snow
looking for warm boots
startled by a crow
in the snow behind my shed
a bit frightening
the end of the deep gray sky
-clouds, like death, move on.
out over the plains
where the clouds end and a farmer
squints and looks our way
from my mountain home
the edge of the dark clouds
mark the boundary to town
first snow almost melts
comes too soon for the garden
leaves burned by the cold
drip, drip, thud, sprinkle
i stay safely on the path
while the trees weep
first autumn snowfall
a drop collects at the tip
of each pine needle
snow in september
cold, wet, impermanentit
is what it is
squatting
among the benches
bodhisattva statue
goddess of mercy
sitting above the starhouse
jazz runs in circles
just by default
my haiku is worthy
of this fine paper
pawing through the first snow
the scent of the garden
still holds summer
on the ground-snow
and metallic confetti
that, made by man, wont change
echo in this quiet
my whistle carrying far
followed by jingles
leaving poke marks
on seasons first snow
this mornings rain
cold september day:
a flower with friends for petals
surrounding a nap
nighttime ritual
without waking her i take
the book from her hands
my haikus
stained with every drop
of melting snow
the garden hijacked
by an early snow, but lookat
how red the squash
an early snowfall
marks the end of summer
time waits for no one
garden under seige
sunflowers droop with the cold
first snow of the year
revealing the grass
under the first snow
his soft paw prints
whistling sculpture
i stand next to it and look
for a power source
tracing the first snow
with our soft footprints
our paths meet
in first snow
my joyful heart reveals
quieter moments
early first snow
looking at a red zinnia
and smelling wood smoke
the wind spirit
plays the harp softly
in the quiet wilderness
the icosahedron
mutates to the fabulous
dodecahedron
counting syllables or
listen to drizzling snow melt
i stand and listen
soft thud
of the melting snow
then quiet again
like the shifting clouds
all i want to write about
are my emotions
melting snow
tracing down my neck
then goose bumps
a thud behind me
i turn my head to see
a branch free of snow
looking for warm boots
startled by a crow
in the snow behind my shed
a bit frightening
the end of the deep gray sky
-clouds, like death, move on.
out over the plains
where the clouds end and a farmer
squints and looks our way
from my mountain home
the edge of the dark clouds
mark the boundary to town
first snow almost melts
comes too soon for the garden
leaves burned by the cold
drip, drip, thud, sprinkle
i stay safely on the path
while the trees weep
first autumn snowfall
a drop collects at the tip
of each pine needle
snow in september
cold, wet, impermanentit
is what it is
squatting
among the benches
bodhisattva statue
goddess of mercy
sitting above the starhouse
jazz runs in circles
just by default
my haiku is worthy
of this fine paper
pawing through the first snow
the scent of the garden
still holds summer
on the ground-snow
and metallic confetti
that, made by man, wont change
echo in this quiet
my whistle carrying far
followed by jingles
leaving poke marks
on seasons first snow
this mornings rain
cold september day:
a flower with friends for petals
surrounding a nap
nighttime ritual
without waking her i take
the book from her hands
my haikus
stained with every drop
of melting snow
the garden hijacked
by an early snow, but lookat
how red the squash
an early snowfall
marks the end of summer
time waits for no one
garden under seige
sunflowers droop with the cold
first snow of the year
revealing the grass
under the first snow
his soft paw prints
whistling sculpture
i stand next to it and look
for a power source
tracing the first snow
with our soft footprints
our paths meet
in first snow
my joyful heart reveals
quieter moments
early first snow
looking at a red zinnia
and smelling wood smoke
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen