welcome to the haikutimes

Issue #139, Guy Hill, Colorado, November 11, 2007. Haiku poets Susan Coppage Evans, Krista Morien, Patrick Lynn, Sara Benson, Jonathan Machen, Sanjay Rajan, Hal Gimpelson and Leon Evans congregate near an old Stagecoach route in the hills above Golden Gate Park near Golden, Colorado. Photographs, layout and photo-illustrations by Jonathan.

how many noisy
haiku poets does it take
to create silence?

for a brief moment
the haiku group considers
just staying inside

buddhas on guy hill
years after the stagecoaches
have rumbled by

pausing for java
haiku poets chill out
by amping up

poets and artists
we congregate
for winter ku

unlikely fall heat
measuring haiku pulse
of november day

while other dogs play
dublin quietly rests
under rock and soil

laughter and coffee
no shortage of either
in this household

cowboy boot
holds it's own
against blue sky

photo by sanjay

what better way to use
the day's last light than to wash
everything in yellow

from this dusty rock
trees surrender to the
roll of the hillside

feeling his heart beat
and his slobber
soak through my jeans

roused from a buddha state
by the
buzzing of a bee

my thoughts the color
of this field of straw in the
warm afternoon light

silence lays itself down
on unprotected eyelids
bathed by warm sun

up thru dried grasses
spring green cap and shirt
patrick cries - wildlife

haiku, breath, haiku
haiku, picture, breath, haiku,
haiku, diaper, OOPS!

autumn light falls
in long golden strands
down the hillside

half-hearted attempt
to keep me from entering -
tousled barbed wire

my delicate skin
drinks in the november sun
nothing between us

moments of my life -
sunlit hilltops, shadowy canyons,
infinite mountains

the north face
where the pine trees gather
cool and quiet

in the emptiness
between this ridge and the next
an insect lights up

angular black rocks
florescent green lichens
day glow dreams

sara is sitting
dangerously near by
where i spread dog poop

blessings of haiku
fall from my friends' minds and hearts
earth gladly receives

old rock walls
bones of the earth - remain
true essence of this land

seeds fall away
revealing the delicate
translucency underneath

i lose the sparrows
when they fly into the
quiet mountain shadow

i too am stripping away
embellishment to sit
in this translucent net

over the edge.
deer shit.
oodles of it.

weathered buddha
dried grasses tickle his nose
he never moves

dirt road
my shadow
so clear

the freedom it takes
to sprout small green plants
from this parched and rambling earth

sitting buddha statues
slowly move a head or arm
alive with haiku

incredible path
not having to go far
to be here

sound of an airplane
it drenches my awareness
then it disappears

weathered old church pew
open to everyone
on this sage-y hillside

shades of blue
and shades of orange
shades of shades

crunch, crunch, crunch
dried grasses under foot
blue sky above

the top of guy hill
wind blowing gently on me
winter has my back

atop guy hill
plenty of it

ever so delicate
nest of deer pellets
nestled amongst sage

centennial cone
rising out of the landscape
light or shadow play

happily walking the path
i once observed
from crutches on the porch

winter sun
and dry chacos
where is the snow?

sitting buddha
marks the hiking path
his nature or mine

patchwork of dark and light
rolls silently over
hillside swell

guy hill
guy and three dogs
what a guy thing!

dear leon,
taking moments
out to walk
and write poetry
- this is life
this is love
my love

solo/group kukai
jonathan machen