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TWO MONOKU SEQUENCES

02 Apr

Night and Day in November and the following Monoku in Sequence both were written on my blog “Haiku Unchained” in June 2005. Both originally included alternating monoku by another poet writing in collaboration. These redacted versions include my haiku one-liners alone.

___________________________________________________________

NIGHT AND DAY IN NOVEMBER

early snow whispers pale moonlight trickles window pane

divers’ small splashes at water’s edge—a name called hoarsely

climbing the north face in deep silence—no lonelier here than home

coming down–nothing left on the summit except a need

mute torrent all day—drifts deepen into timeless white

duly notified—sobs, foot scrapings, cruel wind in the chimney

unfurnished now, the cabin sinks in slumbering decay

___________________________________________________________

MONOKU IN SEQUENCE

cool sand beneath the matsu wave-glints in needles

crabs dance at low tide gull cries distant crashing surf

sultry dusk air fireflies and honeysuckle

moonrise in old growth forest a distant owl calls

rocky riverbank dawn copperheads come out to sun

raging storm below the dam ball lightning rides power lines

afternoon stillness white sky first scent of rain

returned soldier home full of smiling wet faces

her small coffin carried through windrows of tattered petals

rutted road shoulder a stick Cross and wilted flowers

Christmas lights blurred by tears—carols too distant to hear

meadow-covered mountainside cloud shadows fall downhill

pilgrims’ trail narrows as it rises—only silent prayers now

plowing the fish under after the great wave passed

on a windless day, this desert storm—such dark clouds

Silk Road dust drifts my window sill—camel cricket’s desert

following the herd—we bless the fallen and move on

you and I in the temple of ku—so many empty desks

ditch-water fish never see the road but travel its length

space-junk falls over Manitoba—“Ah, shooting stars!”

in the bomb-blasted tree nesting owls on watch

strong east wind—in the foothills the sea scent

three generations tend garden—none as old as their adze

after the fair, new leaves push through the flattened grass

___________________________________________________________

“Haiku Unchained” blog, Denis M. Garrison.

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