welcome to the haikutimes
Issue #116-A, Neighborhood Night-ku. A group kukai on the dusky streets of boulder on a rainy August evening. Haiku by: Patrick Lynn, Sara Benson, Krista Morien, Jala Pfaff, David Harper. Photographs by Jonathan, from his archive. Jonathan was in Southern Colorado writing haiku and backpacking - go back to the concurrent Wetterhorn issue.
after the rain, darkness.
the city smells, whatever they were,
replaced by this
walking at night
suddenly these giant trees
are everything
this eve the rainmaker
is on the job- while stars
have the night off
my country at war
i stand beneath this tree
sheltered from the rain
wanting only
to feel the low dark tree branches
protecting me
limbs drooped a little lower
bearing the weight of today's rain
to save for a sunny day
thinking about my
old neighbors to whom i
never said goodbye
humid summer night
soaked in saliva
the dog toy dries slowly
sparkling raindrops
hanging on the rosebush
suspended from thorns
the grass said thank you
mr rain for your thoughtful gushings
now turn off the sprinkler
leaving soon for down under
hoping to see more
than the tail of a whale
in the dark silence
absence of cars, the trees
have a lot to say to me
peeping tom for sake of
art! inspiration! i swear!
look! a haiku about you!
staring at me
from the dark car, giant
mr. potato head
alone on a dark street
i heard someone say
don't forget to scrub your feet
mountain silhouette
succumbed at dusk to the clouds
a comfy night cap
small sunflower turns
away as if to shun me
for a wrong doing
draped over the bark
of the red velvet couch
a small house lion naps
lights of my old house
dimly lit down there - but it's
not me inside
slowly walking and
watching the shadow of my
wool yard sale hat
first time at krista's
curly candles and
three-headed lamps
under the big tree
considering colors for
my rocking chair
haiku walk
my mind returns to the bottle
of sake on krista's counter
tonight's kukai festive
though rainy and small
were are the cats?
mr. tree, you see
i have this little need, you see,
ugh, not today! please!
at krista's, curly lamps
curly candles and spoons
curly background jazz
hundreds of tiny raindrops
sparkling in the soft folds
of the roses
where the rosebush
overhangs the sidewalk
white petals scattered on concrete
after the rain, darkness.
the city smells, whatever they were,
replaced by this
walking at night
suddenly these giant trees
are everything
this eve the rainmaker
is on the job- while stars
have the night off
my country at war
i stand beneath this tree
sheltered from the rain
wanting only
to feel the low dark tree branches
protecting me
limbs drooped a little lower
bearing the weight of today's rain
to save for a sunny day
thinking about my
old neighbors to whom i
never said goodbye
humid summer night
soaked in saliva
the dog toy dries slowly
sparkling raindrops
hanging on the rosebush
suspended from thorns
the grass said thank you
mr rain for your thoughtful gushings
now turn off the sprinkler
leaving soon for down under
hoping to see more
than the tail of a whale
in the dark silence
absence of cars, the trees
have a lot to say to me
peeping tom for sake of
art! inspiration! i swear!
look! a haiku about you!
staring at me
from the dark car, giant
mr. potato head
alone on a dark street
i heard someone say
don't forget to scrub your feet
mountain silhouette
succumbed at dusk to the clouds
a comfy night cap
small sunflower turns
away as if to shun me
for a wrong doing
draped over the bark
of the red velvet couch
a small house lion naps
lights of my old house
dimly lit down there - but it's
not me inside
slowly walking and
watching the shadow of my
wool yard sale hat
first time at krista's
curly candles and
three-headed lamps
under the big tree
considering colors for
my rocking chair
haiku walk
my mind returns to the bottle
of sake on krista's counter
tonight's kukai festive
though rainy and small
were are the cats?
mr. tree, you see
i have this little need, you see,
ugh, not today! please!
at krista's, curly lamps
curly candles and spoons
curly background jazz
hundreds of tiny raindrops
sparkling in the soft folds
of the roses
where the rosebush
overhangs the sidewalk
white petals scattered on concrete
solo/group kukai
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen
drawing/writing/photography
jonathan machen