f/k/a archives . . . real opinions & real haiku

 

billowing clouds

patches of cracked concrete

along the interstate

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mops and pails–

the wren goes on singing

with straw in its beak

 

 

 

 

 

 

the scent of rain

as the tree frogs start

first star

 

 

 

Peggy Lyles 

“billowing clouds” & “mops and pails–” –  Frogpond XXVIII:2  (Spring/Summer 2005)

“the scent of rain” – Frogpond XXVIII: 1 (Winter, 2005)

 

 

 

by dagosan:  

mid-July —

the weatherman

explains dew points again         

                 [July 19, 2005]

 

 

 

I’ve been saying it for decades to the women in my life. So, I had to smile broadly
last night, when Silvano Iurata (the protagonist in Norman Green’s gritty 2003 novel The Angel of Montague Street) was willing to correct Elia (the newly-found woman of his dreams), to insist:

“Please.  Men don’t wear outfits.”

And, please, no loopholes, ladies: neither boys, nor babies and toddlers of the male gender, wear “outfits” — no matter how cute you may think their clothes look.

Of course, there are times when males wear uniforms or costumes, and men may even be members of an outfit, but they do not wear outfits. See: the lyrics to “Outfit” by Drive-by Truckers, from their 2003 album “DecorationDay;” via comment by David (not related to Your Editor) at Gaslamp Ball: a San Diego Padres Blog, and comment by teemcee, mother of two sons, who explains:

“[G]uys don’t wear ‘outfits’.  Outfits are reserved for us ladies.  Guys wear clothes.  “Outfits” implies accessories like balloon hats shaped to look like unicorns, man-purses (aka “camera bags”) and things of that sort.”

withering wind…

the scarecrow’s jacket

fits

ed markowski

the accused teen
and his lawyer…
dressed for spring

barry george

Santa suit rental —

she orders

less padding this year

dagosan

a shiny disco shirt

out of the attic trunk . . .

something scurries away

randy brooks from School’s Out

potluck buffet – closed for July

Since I’ve interrupted my punditry vacation to bring you this culturally- important message, and I’ve mentioned author Norman Green, I want to point anyone interested in excellent crime/action fiction to Green’s two other novels:

• Way Past Legal (2004)
• Shooting Dr. Jack : A Novel (2001) 

Way Past Legal just came out in paperback.  When I read it last year, it made me want to read everything Green has written, and I wish his oeuvre were much larger.

With Prof. Yabut out of his hair this month, haikuEsq has had time to

weed through dagosan’s daily scrapbooks (pulling clunkers and duds) and to

produce two edited collections, which are humbly offered to those interested in

the continuing growth of a still-neophyte haijin:

david giacalone: haiku & senryu (2004)

& david giacalone: haiku & senryu (2005/I)

— below are haiku and senryu written by this weblog’s Editor, David A. Giacalone.  They first appeared on the f/k/a homepage, under the name “dagosan”. the unedited daily offerings from dagosan can be found in his  “scrapbooks” by going to the dagosan archives page —

– for an earlier edited collection, see david giacalone: haiku & senryu (2004) –

she pirouttes

in her new swimsuit —

standing ovation

[June 30, 2005]

looking

for a wedding ring —

seeing she has one

[June 28, 2005]

one bee and

a gardenful of roses —

on line at the ice cream truck

[June 27, 2005]

95 degrees

the refrigerator

sweats, too

perspiration rolls

across flat abs —

her innie

[June 25, 2005]

winding road —

under the influence

of a strawberry moon

[June 24, 2005]

stuck behind a school bus

two yellow jackets

hitch a ride

[June 23, 2005]

too much tongue

the taste

of the popsicle stick

[June 22, 2005]

summer solstice:

both sides of the street

sunny

[June 21, 2005]

the fireflies

are no-shows —

mosquitos keep working

[June 14, 2005]

the pretty girl’s

sunburnt face —

pale bald spot under my hat

[June 12, 2005]

one quacking duck

mid-river

dateless saturday night

[June 12, 2005]

flea market —

dog and master

marking territory

[June 11, 2005]

june morning

clammy pajamas

before the alarm

[June 7, 2005]

 
 

my eyes water —

dandelion clocks

form sidewalk clouds   

[June 5, 2005]

 

 
 
moonless night
on the river
the Goodyear Blimp floats by
[orig. July, 2004; edit June 5, 2005]

holidaytrafficjam

— goslings    goose     gander

glide downstream

staring at the dessert cart —

four lovely coeds

at the next table

[May 27, 2005]

leaving her place —

a hug

you’d give a friend

[May 26, 2005]

the widow’s

dead rosebush —

giant thorns

[May 20, 2005]

trespassing —

three pink tulips

in an unkempt yard

[May 18, 2005]

mid-May window —

overnight the shade trees

stole the river

[May 17, 2005]

falling blossoms

soon

just another tree

[May 16, 2005]

greatgrandpa’s

bocce balls —

three generations choose sides

zoo peacocks

in full array — the shirtless

fat man reads Shakespeare

[May 13, 2005]

blossoms past their peak —

baby-boomer’s

blind date

[May 12, 2005]

 

 

 

cherry tomatoes

on toothpicks — a vapor trail

spears the midday moon

[May 11, 2005]

Simply Haiku (Vo. 3, No. 3, Winter 2005)

dusty cookbooks:

soup can

in the sink

 
 
 

picnickers flee

a slate-gray sky —

lilacs aglow

[May 3, 2005]

 
 
 

 

temper tantrum

at the mall —

parking lot saplings bloom

[May 2, 2005]

 
 
 

showing off

her May Day drawing —

every pink crayon a nub

[May 1, 2005]

the nine-year-old’s

best shoes

the puddle-covered sidewalk

[April 30, 2005]

new kids move in nextdoor —

do I dare

smile?

storm clouds gather —

city hall tower

just stands there

the neighbor’s new dress

for a moment forgetting

you’re twice her age

[April 29, 2005]

Seder

the kids suddenly

like macaroons

[April 29, 2005]

twin beds arrive

– – –

she says it’s ’cause I snore

[April 27, 2005]

one sparrow

along the river —

squinting, there’s no city

[April 26, 2005]

Earth Day —

recycled bottles

in a three-car garage

[April 24, 2005]

first-date stroll

April tulips

closed tight

[April 22, 2005]

cursing last year’s

unraked leaves —

the dogwood blossoms

[April 19, 2005]

line-drive double

over second base —

coach says I swang late

[April 18, 2005]

a young man’s

erotic dream —

the old man’s bladder wakes him

[April 18, 2005]

just another

Sunday stroll — until

the flower box pansies

[April 17, 2005]

spring’s first mosquito

on my cheek —

the neighbor waves back

admissions week —

two fat envelopes

and two skinny ones

[April 16, 2005]

squinting to see him —

another generation

sent to right field

[April 15, 2005]

Roadrunner Haiku Journal

(V:4, Nov. 2005)

waiting

for the alarm to buzz —

sunbeams warm my ear

[April 12, 2005]

the first

jetski of spring —

seagulls take aim

[April 10, 2005]

home from the wake —

a robin perched

on the newly-toppled tree

[April 8, 2005]

mom’s arthritis

acting up —

I take two Advil

[April 7, 2005]

Roadrunner Haiku Journal

(V:4, Nov. 2005)

Spring arrives —

peeps

melting on the dashboard

[April 5, 2005]

Simply Haiku (Vol. 3, No. 4, Winter 2005)

%0 

 

shortlisting . . .

a hint of perfume

on the resume’

 

 

 

 

blackberry picking–

three generations

in the graveyard

 

 

 

   

 

 

summer spate
muddy water pulls
the salmon home

 

 

 

 

 

 

a child’s painting

bleeds into itself

summer rain

 

 

 

MATT MORDEN 

“shortlisting . . .” –  the loose thread: rma 2001; tundra 2

“summer spate” – Haiku Canada Newsletter –  Vol XVIII: 1 (Feb 2005)

“a child’s painting” – from A New Resonance 2: Emerging Voices

“blackberry picking–“  – the thin curve: rma 1999; Mayfly 26

 

by dagosan:  

toweling off —

why do I always

start here?             

                                     [July 18, 2005]

 

                

 

 

picking strawberries
grandma’s rolled up sleeves reveal
pale tattooed numbers

 

 

 

 

 

 

far from home
an empty swing
half my size

 

 

 

 

 

my son and i
counting fireflies
counting stars

 

 

Roberta Beary

 

“far from home” – Frogpond XIX:3 (1996) (for Anita Virgil) 

“picking strawberries” – Commended, Basho 300th Anniv. International Haiku Contest (1994); HIA (1996)

“my son and i” – First Prize, Penumbra (1999); included in The Thin Curve: RMA 1999

 

 

 

• 
  
  from dagosan:  

sultry Sunday

freezer pops and

blue tongues

[July 17, 2005]                     

                                                                                                                                     

potluck buffet – closed for July           

Yes, f/k/a is way behind schedule today.   dagosan spent several hours

sharing excellent dim sum and conversation at the Tai Pan Restuarant, in

Halfmoon, New York, with two wise and amiable haiku masters, Yu Chang

and John Stevenson.   Upon returning home, there was only one thing to

do: take a very long nap.  Next thing I knew, it was 9 PM.

 

  Sated and sleepy, I’m going to choose a pair of extra-tiny poems by

my two Honorable Hosts, and then present an oldie by dagosan that John and

Yu helped improve (and shorten) over lunch.   I hope your mid-July Saturday

was as pleasant as mine. 

 

 

dew drops

I count

my blessings

 

 

leafing out

the sway

of the willow

 

Yu Chang – Upstate Dim Sum (2003/II)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

green grass

my hopes

just so high

 

 

 

 

 

summer

in the sun

in your room

 

John Stevenson from Quiet Enough (Red Moon Press, 2004)  

 

 

• 
  
  from dagosan:  

harvest moon

a cartful

of groceries

 

 

[orig. Sept. 26, 2004,

     edited, July 16, 2005]

 

 

four from Gary Hotham:

 

the sun’s warmth

part of the house

we seldom use

 

 

 

 

 

a late arrival

in the back row–

the odor of rain

 

 

 

 

in what’s left

of our footprints–

some of the wave

 

“galaxyG”

 

with the numbers

my daughter knows–

the stars counted

 

 

 Gary Hotham from The Red Moon Anthology of English-Language Haiku series

“with the numbers” – The Red Moon Anthology 1997; Woodnotes 31

“in what’s left” – snow on the water: RMA  1998; South by Southeast V:2

“a late arrival” – pegging the wind: RMA 2002;; Kusamakura 2001

“the sun’s warmth” – pegging the wind: RMA 2002; The Heron’s Nest IV:9   

 

 

• 
  
  from dagosan:  

rush-hour red light —

every car but ours

airconditioned

 

 

[July 15, 2005]

                                                                                                                     

 

 

  potluck buffet – closed for July

out my childhood window
         tree sihouettes
           grown up

 

 

 

 

the baby
sucking her thumb
moongazes

 

 

 

as the spider

goes down the drain

a second thought

 

 

Tom Clausen

“as the spider” – Upstate Dim Sum (2003/I)

 

twilight shadows

the outline of a child

in sidewalk chalk

 

 

 

 

pear blossoms–

shaving for the morning

vasectomy

 

 

 

Randy Brooks

“twilight shadows” – snapshots haiku magazine #9 (2001)

“pear blossoms” – snapshots #10 (2004)

 

 

 

• 
  
  from dagosan: 

just past sunset —

faded daylilies

more orange than before

 

 

[July 14, 2005]

 

 

  potluck: the lid’s on in July  

birdsong

my imaginary lover

alive again

 

 

 

rough landing

the warmth

of your hand

 

 

 

 

bamboo grove

a carved heart

still green

 

 

 

  Yu Chang

“birdsong” – tug of the current: rma 2004; The Heron’s Nest VI:4 (Editors’ Choice)

“rough landing” – Upstate Dim Sum 2004:1

“bamboo grove” – walking the same path (HSA Anthology 2004); Upstate Dim Sum 2004:1

 

by dagosan:

 

the gull we shooed —

watching and

watching its flight

 

             [July 13, 2005]

 

reprise:

mottled gray sky

impatiens

grow louder                    

                           [7-15-04]

                                                                      

 

bikinis

everywhere

the unblinking sun

 

 

 

 

 

dog days

fresh patches

of asphalt

 

 

 

 

swimming back,

the sting

of rain drops

 

  John Stevenson – Upstate Dim Sum (2003/II) 

 

 

 

• 
  
  from dagosan: 

tawny

crescent moon –

the curve of her tan line

 

 

[July 12, 2005]

 

 

potluck: the lid’s on in July  

 

                                                                                                                           

the place i can’t reach itches your absence

 

 

hummingbird I stop a moment

 

 

 

the rain the same as the summer air twilight

 

Jim Kacian from Simply Haiku (2003) & Terebess

 

 

• 
  
  from dagosan:  

an oak shades

the newly-waxed Saab —

sparrow scores a bull’s-eye

 

 

[July 11, 2005]

summer morning–
the kitten ignores itself
in the full-length mirror

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a flatbed
hauling scrap metal
summer heat

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

slow conversation

a passing bus fills

the diner window

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

back door curve

    the batter

        exits  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Island dusk–
in a field of glowing reeds
the white crane  

 

 

 

Barry George 

“Island dusk” – from Haiku Spirit; “back door curve” –  Fan: “Haiku” Special Issue (1998)

“slow conversation” – A New Resonance 2; “a flatbed” & “summer morning” –  The Heron’s Nest

 

by dagosan: 

Sunday dawn —

yawning

all the way back to bed

 

                              [July 10, 2005]       

 

– below are haiku and senryu written by “dagosan”, this weblog’s Editor, David A. Giacalone. most have been on the Home Page, some are outtakes and rewrites. each is a work in progress. i hope they show improvement over time and encourage others to try writing haiku –

 – click here for dagosan’s archive index –

8th birthday –

she wants a diamond

and new cleats

 

            [for Lissa, July 31, 2005]

 

 

 

 

another summer

infatuation

orange daylilies

 

 

[July 30, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

fasting for a blood test —

the phlebotomist

puts down his doughnut

 

 

 

 

 

 

cute receptionist —

handing her

a Medicare card

 

                [July 29, 2005]

 

 

 

cooler after the storm —

a smile from

the neighborhood scold

 

                [July 28, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

one more

razor nick —

she kisses the whiskered cat

 

 

[July 27, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

July heatwave —

the hardhats grieve over

lukewarm coffee

 

                     [July 26, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lawn seating —

we hear

the clouds float by 

 

                          [July 25, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

writer’s block —

an ice cream binge

inspires brain freeze

 

                 [July 22, 2005]     

 

 

 

 

perigee:

the moon

closer than you

 

 

[July 21 2005]  

 

 

 

 

 

 

open window —

summer breeze

blows right by

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

a lot less humid

choosing

the sunny side of the street

 

 

[July 20 2005]  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

mid-July —

the weatherman

explains dew points again         

                 [July 19, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

toweling off —

why do I always

start here?             

                       [July 18, 2005]

 

 

 

 

sultry Sunday

freezer pops and

blue tongues

[July 17, 2005]     

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

harvest moon

a cartful

of groceries

 

 

[orig. Sept. 26, 2004,

     edited, July 16, 2005]

 

 

rush-hour red light —

every car but ours

airconditioned

 

 

[July 15, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

 

just past sunset —

faded daylilies

more orange than before

 

 

[July 14, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the gull we shooed —

watching and

watching its flight

 

             [July 13, 2005]

 

 

 

tawny

crescent moon –

the curve of her tan line

 

 

[July 12, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

an oak shades

the newly-waxed Saab —

sparrow scores a bull’s-eye

 

 

[July 11, 2005]

 

 

 

 

Sunday dawn —

yawning

all the way back to bed

 

                              [July 10, 2005]       

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

sudden downpour

wet t-shirts

show much too much 

 

                              [July 8, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

summer laundry —

the colors pile

half the size of the whites

 

[July 7,2005]    

 

 

 

not until we’re married!

he invokes

the kissing loophole

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kissing Day —

just as much fun

with our dentures out

 

 

 

 

 

 

his pop-fly

kisses the moon —

heading to second 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

the bedroom spider

gets clemency —

not the mosquito

 

 

[July 6, 2005]

 

 

 

 

parked on the shoulder

in a driving rain —

our flashers dim

 

[July 5, 2005]

 

 

the old war vet —

holding his grandson

and oxygen tank

 

original

photo by arthur j. giacalone

 

 

 

 

 

 

fireworks –

in the crowd

one dog wimphers, one howls
 

 

 

 

 

 

                               !!!!!!!

                      finale

                     f

                    f

                   f

                  f

                 f

                f

               f

              f

fireworks  

town hall fireflies

keep working the crowd

                         

 

[July 4, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

bedroom cricket —

she wants it caught 

                        and brought outside 

 

[July 3, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

breakfast alone

a cricket

in the kitchen

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

double-play:

baseball and fireworks

called on account of rain 

 

 

[July 2, 2005]

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

July downpour —

a tiny dry patch

on the porch

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

lightning storm —

the constant flashing

of digital clocks

 

 

[July 1, 2005]