welcome to the haikutimes

Issue #120, Betasso Preserve, November 20, 2005. Haiku writers Susan Peterson, Krista Morien, Sara Benson, Sanjay Rajan, David Harper, Patrick Lynn and Jonathan Machen explore and write haiku in one of Boulder's earliest open-space acquisitions.

on a sunny bench
sending my prayers to Teslin
on the other side

for days afterwards
skirting the depressions
where the snow remains

jolted out of
daydreams by two mountain lions
i mean bikers

work, work, work, write, write,
love, and marriage - finally,
a haiku moment

gathering of stones
in the sunny field, don't want
to interrupt

background of silence
for words spoken from her heart
graceful wilderness

for a full minute
a crow approaches silently
then the sound of wings

disregarding my mood
a pack of songbirds flies in
chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp

her first love
now in another's home

tree dimensional
jigsaw puzzle
of bark and life

walking the same way
to see something new

before we disperse
into our lives
we meet for haiku

susan's voice trailing
up and down and around curves
behind me on the path

haiku nothingness
and elephant dung
small shit on big shit

note: elephant dung refers to the 'elephant dung paper' haiku books that jonathan brought back from Thailand.

how many haikus
would haiku writers write if
haiku writers could write haiku?

dried grasses emerge
from november snow

zig zag fence
a matter of practicality
or a farmer's art?

walking mandala
on betasso hillside
sunday prayer

chickadees revel
in the discovery of
yet another pine nut

picnic table perch
inspires wanderings to
eastern horizons

shadows preserve
winter in a pact
of chilly similitude

broad smiles
we all share
useless haiku

better useless
in this world
of odd usefulness

rather than
touching my grief
reciting my story

the hollowness of
the tree transmitted
through a bird's beak

bikers hiss
past our path
jazz ears follow

mountain beauty
still remains
when body long gone

buddies leashed
we walk together
old age grace

straining to see
the birds singing in the trees
then not

stripped down to spirit
by the cold, the trees
ever more still

tug of war
dog and i
left. no right.

why not?
haiku words
full of nothingness

juniper-scented hand
pressed to my warm face
saying hello to myself

winter sun
we talk simply
death and dung

sky and mountains
pure blue, pure white - far from
our complicated lives

on this very day
i have everything i need
wholly awareness

spreading happiness
across my back
winter sun warmth

bent legged buck
jumping across the
straw colored mattress

happily walking
through pockets of sun and pine scent
wafting from the trees

drippin pee
on dried grass
yellow on yellow

kickin air
jazz does his best
dog angels in snow

doggie mind
is it as pure as
doggie breath?

dung book
full of nothingness
page after page

jazz waits patiently
turning circles on his leash
while sanjay writes

snow crackled footsteps
leave a transient mark
on winter

sun beats blue
on the whitened slopes
of winter

brilliant pine needles
stunningly still in sweet
surrender to the sun

some wear clean
underwear every day, rarely
doing the shim sham shimmy

solo/group kukai
jonathan machen