welcome to the haikutimes
Issue #71 Community Gardens, September 14, 2003. Haikutimes staff writers Jonathan Machen, Krista Morien, Susan Peterson, Sara Benson, Laree Kline and Patrick Lynn bring you a special September harvest report from Boulder's Community Garden. Photographs and layout by Jonathan Machen.
a white dove
in the sun-warmed silence
above the field
maybe it landed
in these beautiful gardens
at night: stray port-o-let
cosmos and peppers
lettuces starting to seed
basil with bad breath
chaotic profusion
trash and untameable splendor
explosions intertwined
common miracle
a bag of sunflower seeds
starts with drooping head
emotional morning
a slender yellowish bird
on the hollyhock
melons firm, leaves limp
black and white catnip kitty
purple amaranth
old man
holding a knucklely gourd
in his shrivelled hand
one can still call out,
"how are you - nice to see you"
across rows of beets
tomatoes rotting
juicy flesh on wilted vine
owners off hiking
following a cat
i thought i saw
through quiet suburban yards
how appropriate
to be reading the onion
next to compost bin
two white lawn chairs
still tilted in conversation
last night in the garden
unnameable beauty
does joy increase thru naming things
can life alone suffice
sharing her garden
instructing about perennials
he feigns interest
hoping to get laid
he listens to her drone on
about autumn gardening
my busy gardening partner-
quickly picks peppers
while i write haiku
towering and sprawling
autumn corn, squash, and sunflowers
escaping the gardeners
giant sunflower
drooping under it's own weight
can't face the sun
pumpkin habaero
garden language floating
up and down the rows
shrieks of rainbow chard
hot pants pink, see me yellow
joy is in this place
obviously imported
for the task: beefy husbands
picking pumpkins
the empty chair
in each garden plot, spirit
of the gardener
seemingly invented
for some strange race of giants:
zucchini squash plants
whimpering and whining
while dessicated reader
drones on and on
sun shining through
the chard leaves, revealing
a glowing red tree
my eyes wake to snow
my body slowly descends
9,000 feet to fall
numbered markers
plants in pens of imagination
ornate twig fence best
frustration abounds
desire for fresh and sweet descriptors
sorry lack of words
missed the traditional
haiku nap - because i was
a tad bit late
group effort to
harvest squash and watermelon
bitten by frost
garden guy on cell
updating harvest report
to wife back at home
late summer afternoon
birds and insects tend gardens
otherwise neglected
albino pumpkin
quietly unassuming
in hidden corner
while last night's frost
was killing these plants, i was
snuggling closer to tammy
abandoned dirt mounds
reminiscent of burial plots
some ten years ago
frosted squash leaves
others shrouded in white sheets
waiting for relief
a white dove
in the sun-warmed silence
above the field
maybe it landed
in these beautiful gardens
at night: stray port-o-let
cosmos and peppers
lettuces starting to seed
basil with bad breath
chaotic profusion
trash and untameable splendor
explosions intertwined
common miracle
a bag of sunflower seeds
starts with drooping head
emotional morning
a slender yellowish bird
on the hollyhock
melons firm, leaves limp
black and white catnip kitty
purple amaranth
old man
holding a knucklely gourd
in his shrivelled hand
one can still call out,
"how are you - nice to see you"
across rows of beets
tomatoes rotting
juicy flesh on wilted vine
owners off hiking
following a cat
i thought i saw
through quiet suburban yards
how appropriate
to be reading the onion
next to compost bin
two white lawn chairs
still tilted in conversation
last night in the garden
unnameable beauty
does joy increase thru naming things
can life alone suffice
sharing her garden
instructing about perennials
he feigns interest
hoping to get laid
he listens to her drone on
about autumn gardening
my busy gardening partner-
quickly picks peppers
while i write haiku
towering and sprawling
autumn corn, squash, and sunflowers
escaping the gardeners
giant sunflower
drooping under it's own weight
can't face the sun
pumpkin habaero
garden language floating
up and down the rows
shrieks of rainbow chard
hot pants pink, see me yellow
joy is in this place
obviously imported
for the task: beefy husbands
picking pumpkins
the empty chair
in each garden plot, spirit
of the gardener
seemingly invented
for some strange race of giants:
zucchini squash plants
whimpering and whining
while dessicated reader
drones on and on
sun shining through
the chard leaves, revealing
a glowing red tree
my eyes wake to snow
my body slowly descends
9,000 feet to fall
numbered markers
plants in pens of imagination
ornate twig fence best
frustration abounds
desire for fresh and sweet descriptors
sorry lack of words
missed the traditional
haiku nap - because i was
a tad bit late
group effort to
harvest squash and watermelon
bitten by frost
garden guy on cell
updating harvest report
to wife back at home
late summer afternoon
birds and insects tend gardens
otherwise neglected
albino pumpkin
quietly unassuming
in hidden corner
while last night's frost
was killing these plants, i was
snuggling closer to tammy
abandoned dirt mounds
reminiscent of burial plots
some ten years ago
frosted squash leaves
others shrouded in white sheets
waiting for relief
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen