welcome to the haikutimes
Issue #135, Skiing from one season to the next: Indian Peaks Wilderness, James Peak Wilderness, and the Boulder Farmers' Market, April, 2007. Haiku by Krista Morien, Sanjay Rajan, Patrick Lynn, David Harper, and Jonathan Machen.
i turn my hat to follow
the sound but just see
the inside of my parka hood
growing happy
as the snow falls
the silence deepens
would rather have
haiku mind
than haiku
moffat tunnel
spring snow storm
blowing horizontal
group of three
guys heading off
with pack and shovel
skiing from
one season
into the next
spring announced
in blustery language
gloves knocked over in wind
like an old man
with scraggily moss goatee
dead branch waving in wind
weathered woman
with close-cropped black hair says,
"it's nice to get out of the wind"
at nine thousand nine thirty-one
passing three guys
with two pairs of skins
at ten thousand fifty-three
familiar place covered in snow
becomes wild again
ten thousand one-seventy three
hearing river ice below
seeing only snow
ten thousand six hundred and four
stopping by unique branch
in forest full of unique branches
eleven thousand one hundred ten
think i'll head down again
past the snowshoers
distracted by
the cutest baby
i've ever seen
floating empty
bottle of vitamin water
bereft of nutrition
giving myself license
to simply sit
in the grass and stare
hanging baskets
discovering life
outside the greenhouse
early morning sun
shadow extra tall
egyptian cat
hawaiian slide
and green ants
all together now
man's concrete interventions
hold the bank together
where cottonwoods don't
afraid to put my food down
after the insistent girl
showed me green ants
freckles lettuce
and baby shallots peeking
from salad nursery
mid april
we chat
portland and boulder
walk through
talk snippets
conversation montage
acoustic jazz
muted by creek rock friction
makes a new tune
even the "disarm
bush" man finds someone to talk to
at the farmers' market
abundance of form
at farmers' market
i retreat to creek
yielding to peds
until i realize
i'm a ped
parsnips and radishes
wag their tails
when you pick them up
mornin' chai
three hours late
mind long awake
spring market
watching shoes go by
precariously balancing bodies
twisted leg
and pointy nose
girl talk over coffee
gray skies
collude with hats
and chocolate treats
perched creekside
smooth water roll over the dam
waiting for the one-hundred year flood
dandelion blossom
knows nothing of weeds
but is an expert on yellow
the sprout guy resorts
to russian theatrics to sell
sprouted brazil nuts
tightly clutching her
plastic orange tiger
she wheels through crowd
like i collect teacups
this eddy collects precious
styrofoam peanuts
cartwheel practice
in a dandelion patch
yellow hands
frozen on the
bike path by a man
with no brakes
bustle and jostle
genetically similar
coffee-seeking shoppers
"i think i was annoyed with her
'cause she was yelling at me
for not being there more often.
she's right."
stepping out of the stream
watching my fellow earthlings
pass by in all their glory
mole' fix
nice start
to market visit
walking upright
still a challenge
for munchkins
market patrons
practice sense multi-tasking
in negotiating traffic
strolling and chewing
greens hanging from their mouths
first farmers' market
arugula good in mouth
but not so good
in haiku
having studied the art
of floating for years
the branch drops in
another season
the newspaper lady
dancing with the daily news
i turn my hat to follow
the sound but just see
the inside of my parka hood
growing happy
as the snow falls
the silence deepens
would rather have
haiku mind
than haiku
moffat tunnel
spring snow storm
blowing horizontal
group of three
guys heading off
with pack and shovel
skiing from
one season
into the next
spring announced
in blustery language
gloves knocked over in wind
like an old man
with scraggily moss goatee
dead branch waving in wind
weathered woman
with close-cropped black hair says,
"it's nice to get out of the wind"
at nine thousand nine thirty-one
passing three guys
with two pairs of skins
at ten thousand fifty-three
familiar place covered in snow
becomes wild again
ten thousand one-seventy three
hearing river ice below
seeing only snow
ten thousand six hundred and four
stopping by unique branch
in forest full of unique branches
eleven thousand one hundred ten
think i'll head down again
past the snowshoers
distracted by
the cutest baby
i've ever seen
floating empty
bottle of vitamin water
bereft of nutrition
giving myself license
to simply sit
in the grass and stare
hanging baskets
discovering life
outside the greenhouse
early morning sun
shadow extra tall
egyptian cat
hawaiian slide
and green ants
all together now
man's concrete interventions
hold the bank together
where cottonwoods don't
afraid to put my food down
after the insistent girl
showed me green ants
freckles lettuce
and baby shallots peeking
from salad nursery
mid april
we chat
portland and boulder
walk through
talk snippets
conversation montage
acoustic jazz
muted by creek rock friction
makes a new tune
even the "disarm
bush" man finds someone to talk to
at the farmers' market
abundance of form
at farmers' market
i retreat to creek
yielding to peds
until i realize
i'm a ped
parsnips and radishes
wag their tails
when you pick them up
mornin' chai
three hours late
mind long awake
spring market
watching shoes go by
precariously balancing bodies
twisted leg
and pointy nose
girl talk over coffee
gray skies
collude with hats
and chocolate treats
perched creekside
smooth water roll over the dam
waiting for the one-hundred year flood
dandelion blossom
knows nothing of weeds
but is an expert on yellow
the sprout guy resorts
to russian theatrics to sell
sprouted brazil nuts
tightly clutching her
plastic orange tiger
she wheels through crowd
like i collect teacups
this eddy collects precious
styrofoam peanuts
cartwheel practice
in a dandelion patch
yellow hands
frozen on the
bike path by a man
with no brakes
bustle and jostle
genetically similar
coffee-seeking shoppers
"i think i was annoyed with her
'cause she was yelling at me
for not being there more often.
she's right."
stepping out of the stream
watching my fellow earthlings
pass by in all their glory
mole' fix
nice start
to market visit
walking upright
still a challenge
for munchkins
market patrons
practice sense multi-tasking
in negotiating traffic
strolling and chewing
greens hanging from their mouths
first farmers' market
arugula good in mouth
but not so good
in haiku
having studied the art
of floating for years
the branch drops in
another season
the newspaper lady
dancing with the daily news
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen