autumn heat
slapping the dust
from his jeans
UMBILICAL
THE MOBILE TWISTS slowly above my son’s crib catch-
ing moonlight slicing through the Venetian blinds. I have no
reason to worry, but come in to check on him, to hear him
breathe, to cover him. His twitching eyelids … what could he
be dreaming?
full moon
his umbilical
falls out
w.f. owen
Indian summer
rust on our hands
from the swing
“Umbilical” – haibun from Frogpond XXVIII:3
“autumn heat” – Mainichi Daily News (Oct. 1, 2005)
“Indian summer” – Selected poems (3rd Place, Haiku Poets of No. Calif., 2003)
by dagosan:
the elm died
and the tulip tree grew —
between visits
[Nov. 11, 2005]
potluck
Why is it always three strikes/mistakes/failures before you’re out?
Evan Schaeffer and friends want to know. (via Point of Law) Prof. Yabut
wonders why the pitcher gets to throw four “balls” before the batter is
walked. Unfair discrimination?
that the Federalist Society is having its annual get-togther downtown. And,
nobody invited us. Am I missing a lot of fun?
“libertarian streak.”
the new Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff — Gen. Peter Pace — has a nice
Italian name that means “peace” in the language of his father.
Like last year on Veteran’s Day, I want to thank all the Veterans of every generation
who have fought to preserve the freedom of America and much of the world. Thank
you for risking your physical and emotional well-being in the hellishness of war.
Veteran’s Day
the soliloquy lengthens
the afternoon chill
WWII
papa still
won’t talk about it
