Crows and clocks

crows and clocks,

clatter in the kitchen

from my husband ...

how active the world is

while I'm inclined to slumber

—GUSTS, spring/summer 2017

Tanka Prose

Registration

Tap, tap, tap, tap, tap … Sturdy, manicured nails striking keys. So far, she's asked me three questions to do with my personal information—basically, if it's still correct. "Yes, Yes, Yes," I've responded. The tapping goes on interminably. Why, I have no idea. Elbow on desk, I rest my chin in my palm.

tick tick tick
who am I anyway?
the most I do
in this sterile space
is take a few more breaths

Then more questions—what's a good emergency contact number, if I have a living will, who my next of kin is—the same questions I've been asked a multitude of times before, followed by more tap-tapping on the keyboard. And eventually, she generates a thin plastic wristband to ID me during my brief stay, a stack of papers I must initial and sign (including one reminding me this is a smoke-free facility), and a stapled document I'm supposed to take home (a candidate for the shredder).

Twelve minutes of my life, gone. Not to mention the eighteen or nineteen minutes of wait time beforehand. To think I'm here only for a routine procedure.

fingernails
painted the color
of the sea ...
deeper, deeper my feet
in imaginary sand

________________

—Contemporary Haibun Online, January 2017, vol. 12, no. 4

INFJ

INFJ,

four letters that ID me ...

Myers and Briggs,

bet you didn't know

I'd paste them on my forehead

—Ribbons, Tanka Cafe (theme: "Self-identity"), fall 2016

I'm kind of borderline in the last two test categories (not the first).

Papers, cards, letters

papers, cards, letters 
crammed in every cranny 
of their house … 
I unearth a clipping, 
How to bust a litterer 

—Frameless Sky, issue 5, fall 2016

I took possession of that clipping. And if my desk weren't so cluttered, I might be able to find it.

The blueness

the blueness

at this altitude—

before takeoff

I read my horoscope,

your head might be in the clouds …

—Frameless Sky, issue 5, fall 2016

Announcement: KYSO Flash HTP Contest Results

Recently, I received the surprising news of winning first place in the HTP Contest, a joint haibun and tanka prose competition administered by Clare MacQueen, editor/publisher extraordinaire of the innovative KYSO Flash online journal. To read my piece, "Approximations," as well as the other winning entries plus the semifinalist and publisher's choice entries, follow this link.

For commentaries by Matthew Paul, judge, follow this link.

Many thanks to Clare and Matthew!

Touring homes

touring homes 

under construction— 

the freedom 

to step right inside

our neighbors' closets

—Atlas Poetica, 18, Summer 2014

Strolling the streets; the shift

strolling the streets

of the happiest place

in America ...

had I remembered

I would have worn a grin

~ San Luis Obispo, California, USA, August 2013

—Skylark 2:2, winter 2014

It actually was a happy place. I'd happily visit again!

the shift

in my disposition

when I notice

that train is carrying

The Greatest Show on Earth

~railroad crossing, Waller County, Texas, USA

—Atlas Poetica, 20, January 2015

A long, sleek, spotless train, no graffiti. As an adult, I tend to be a little bothered by the notion of circuses (some might say "The Cruelest Show on Earth"?). Yet for a few moments, I felt something magical as that train transported me back. 

Note: Earlier this month, performing elephants were officially retired from the Ringling Brothers and Barnum & Bailey Circus, ending a 145-year tradition.

Reading down

—GUSTS, Fall/Winter 2015

Tanka Prose

Something in the Air

by Janet Lynn Davis (prose) and Susan Burch (tanka)

I catch myself staring at the cracks in her thickly applied pink lipstick. Then it happens. Something from somewhere lands in one of my eyes, aggravating a contact lens and as per usual triggering a mini-waterfall. 

At the eleventh hour, just as I need to get serious about my required research paper, my Freshman English instructor, via swift strokes with her red pen, presses me to switch to a more-traditional (aka stodgy) topic. That's why I'm now sitting here in her dank little office behind the classroom: to assert myself. 

In a flash, her face freezes as she no doubt notices the waterworks. “Okay. You can go ahead with it,” she sheepishly acquiesces. “I was only afraid things would get too psychological for me.” With that, she officially approves my original topic: Why People Laugh.   

This probably wasn't the first time tears saved me. I run with it.            

I blink my eye 

to get a lash out—

the married guy

sharing the elevator

winks back at me

                

____________________

Authors' Note: For those unfamiliar with U.S. university curriculums, "Freshman English" refers to a first-year English literature and composition course (or courses).

—Haibun Today, vol 9 no. 2, June 2015

Thanks to fellow poet Susan for working on this with me. Was fun to do! By the way, what I write about here (the prose) really did happen.

The assortment

the assortment
of birthday cards
he gives me,
one from each side
of his personality

—red lights, 4:2; Take Five, vol. 1 (2008)

Nestled

nestled 

in succulent leaves, 

a sign: 

Don’t water the plant 

It needs a dry spell 

office building, Magnolia, Texas, USA

— Atlas Poetica, 20, January 2015

No dry spells here. It seems the rains just don't want to cease; we're way above average monthly rainfall totals. Our wet-weather creek at the back has probably run over. And to think that for two or three years earlier in this decade we were in "exceptional drought" mode!

How deftly; in love; 20-some years

how deftly

you maneuver the chopsticks—

with fork in hand

I study your routine

as if you were a gymnast

—I think this was published (2007?), but I can't figure out where

in love

over vegetable curry
I can’t stop staring. . .
this brown rice
isn’t one bit mushy

—Simply Haiku, Autumn 2006

20-some years

of knowing each other

we choose mild

for the heat level

of our chana masala

—Fire Pearls 2 (an anthology by Keibooks), 2013

Wild pansies

wild pansies
infiltrate
her perfect garden—
lanky, jagged-leaved,
grins on their faces

—A Hundred Gourds, 3:4, September 2014

Here in southeast Texas, pansies may survive the winter, but cottontail rabbits seem to love the taste of the blooms. 

It's pretty

it’s pretty

she says while showing me

the sparkling

little gold trinket

she’ll glue inside my mouth

—Atlas Poetica #14, March 2013

A gift

a gift
of lion earrings
from the suitor
who kept insisting
I was a mouse

—red lights, Vol. 10, No. 1, January 2014

"Cartoon" haiga: to woo me

—haiga published in Prune Juice, issue 11, Nov. 2013

"to woo me" first published in Fire Pearls 2, 2013

artwork courtesy of friend Karen A. Smith

My next home and other house tanka

Below, several poems from the first half of my tanka career, most of them written and published at different times. Grouped together, I believe they almost form a sequence. Of course, in a deliberately written sequence, I hope I wouldn't have two brand-news and five houses or homes. ;) (And of course, years after the fact, I see an edit or two I perhaps should have made.)

my next home,

built among lean pines ...
thinner
and thinner the desire
to make a name for myself

squinting,
I imagine it ...
our rustic home
sprouting up

through winter ryegrass

our brand-new
home site and, already,
some visitors ...
in the sandy loam
fresh tracks of deer

half the rooms

accidentally
painted yellow—

a sin that I can't take

this much cheerfulness?

the time we spend

choosing our new front door
as if nothing else
much matters
but entrances and exits

up high
inside the porches
of our new home
wasps and daddy longlegs
all settled in before us

brand-new house
and yet another leak—
the puddles
I've been sloshing through
on my way to contentment

—"my next home," Tanka Splendor Awards 2007; "squinting," Landfall: Poetry of Place in Modern English Tanka (anthology), 2007; "our brand-new," Nisqually Delta Review, Winter/Spring 2007; "half the rooms," Simply Haiku, Winter 2009; "the time we spend," Ribbons, Fall 2008, and Take Five (anthology), Vol. 1, 2009; A Pebbled Shore (TSA 2009 members' anthology); "brand-new house," Simply Haiku, Winter 2009.

Wouldn't you know it, but after all that effort in choosing a door (long story), the builder gave us the wrong size door, with no apologies.

Postage stamps

postage stamps

with LOVE swirled in red—

the mail clerk

asks if it's okay

to use them on my letters

—Fire Pearls 2, 2013

True story. She seemed to want to get rid of those stamps. So, yes, I allowed her to put them on my letters, and I bought a few additional ones to take home. I thought it was very considerate of her to ask, lol. Here's one:

And this marks the end of the second annual "Love Month" at twigs&stones.

Strolling through

strolling through
the holiday market
each year
the array of delights
delighting us less

—A Hundred Gourds, December 2013

With this tanka, I'm stretching out the holidays a bit! (AHG asks that you wait at least 40 days after they've published your work before you share it again with the world.) I can find it hard to let go of Christmas anyway; my tree and other stuff often are up well into January.