Pleased to have 2 #senryu appear in horror senryu journal!
sweet smell drifting out
of the hospice window…
long nights
.
And
.
still dark…
blood seeps into
the mattress
.
In horror senryu journal, 30 January 2026
Many thanks to editor Thomas Tilton
Delighted to see three of my one line poems in The Other Bunny, 29 June 2026 (see one of the three poems included with image below)
Grateful thanks to editor Johannes S. H. Bjerg!
.
hushed sounds…
snowflakes soaking up
the light
Delighted to appear in issue 3 of Flying Fish Haiku Journal! Many thanks to Editor Richa Sharma for including this poem:
end
of the line…
adult bib
It connects to earlier work on the same theme. In 2022, reflecting on the problems faced by persons living with PD, I wrote about the qualities of haiku that recommended it as a tool in the Parkinson’s toolbox.
Briefly, I saw haiku as a container or vessel into which one could pour “all kinds of experience—the beauty of sunsets and cherry blossoms, the exhilaration of climbing personal ‘mountains,’ but also the depth of loneliness, the pangs of pain, the embarrassment of acid reflux—and transform them, in a few words, into a manageable, livable experience”.
The three ‘adult bib’ haiku are attempting exactly that. Failing facial and throat muscles result in spilling drinks, dropping food and dribbling, becoming a daily cause of distress. The adult bib becomes an essential helpful piece of clothing, making life easy for the carers, but at the same time infantilizing the person wearing it. What does this mean? Has the person with Parkinson’s reached the end of the line?
end
of the line…
adult bib
The extent of humiliation is plain to see:
birthday present…
his adult bib embroidered
with ducks
However, the situation may be saved:
birthday meal
his Chef's Apron
sparkling white
“birthday present” and “birthday meal” both in CHO 20.2, “First-person reflections on the art of writing haibun”,
Advent…
logs becoming flame
becoming heat
.
.
breaking through the grey…
rays of hope
evening light ...
using AI to give it
warmth
Interesting! After I posted the haiku, above, I checked AI for its opinion. AI came back with the following poem:
AI enhances the scene,
Evening light gains warmth and glow,
Human eye still guides.
In its poetic response, AI addressing the question about ownership in collaboration, tryies to reassure me about any concerns I might have regarding authorship. In the interplay between human creativity and AI enhancement, I am told, I still have the rights to my vision!
Yes, but for how long?
Honored and thrilled that my haiga series “Felt World” is featured this November 2025 at The Haiku Foundation website.
Haiga Galleries.
“Felt World in the title of this Gallery alludes both to the world as experienced through our senses and emotions, in the immediate, embodied understanding of it; and the world of those interested in felting, in transforming mainly wool fibres to the matted material referred to as felt, through a process involving heat, moisture, pressure, and elbow grease.
Take a look here
For background information on how I came to felting and haikufelting, you may find this essay interesting: Felting Haiga [or, Hairballs to Haiga: The Evolution of a New Hybrid, “Haikufelting” here
Lapping against
the walls of her dream
Venetian tide
.
Dream of St. Ursula
Vittore Carpaccio
homeward bound
a sudden pull towards
the light
the buzzz
in the lavender field…
Gregorian chant
concrete head
my efforts to give it
a soul
Every Wednesday morning, seven of us serving the life sentence of Parkinson’s, tear through Mering Heath, in the south of Germany. Brushing against coarse grass and heather, stabbing the ground with our walking sticks, thrusting ourselves forward, we fill our lungs with the heather-scented air.
During today’s cooling-down session – swinging upper body left and right, extended arms loosely following, slowly catching our breath – the leader of our group relates the history of the place. In the 1700s, a building housing the Court of Justice stood exactly here by the Galgenbach, the Gallows stream. It was here that executions ordered by the Court were carried out. Crowds gathered, watched and cheered with the tightening of each noose, with each trap door opening. They watched the 15 minute-dance of the hanged, and then walked home.
hangman’s elm
the ancient tree creaks
and groans
.
In Blithe Spirit 35. 2 p. 70
immersion into light renunciation
Happy to see 3 of my haiga included on pages 35 and 36 of the online Romanian Journal of contemporary art, Arta! See here
Grateful thanks to Andi Dumitrache for including them.
Camera obscura
For the last hour
My old poems
scaffolding for
her childhood memories…
first day of spring
returning ...
brushing against coarse grass
and heather
lunar eclipse …
when darkness makes us
visible
.
days growing longer...
painting over the brown leaves
with fresh green
tectonic faults
cutting the puppeteer's
strings
the time it takes
to become immortal
em dash
I don't have
all the answers
snow moon
wool, soap, water
I name my first pot
Adam
far side of the moon
the things you never
tell me
seaquakes…
cracks appear on the walls
of Hozoviotissa
.
Hozoviotissa is the iconic monastery on the island of Amorgos. It is built on the steep south coast of the island at an altitude of 300 meters.
What would you do if you knew this was the last night of the world? In Ray Bradbury’s short story and the recent Chamber opera inspired by it, couples, who have all dreamt the same dream about the world’s end, struggle with this question. Displaying doubt, disbelief and denial, as well as acceptance of their forthcoming demise, they argue, fight, hug, open their most expensive bottle of wine. The mundane response when facing the extraordinary. After all, the end of the world doesn’t sound as alarming as the Apocalypse!
And yet and yet. What would you do? What would I do? It is time to explore what our answer might be. Even more so than in 1951 when the short story was published, even when certain diseases propel some of us to an accelerated end. Seconds away from disaster, according to the Doomsday Clock, with wars erupting in ever more places and wildfires scorching dearly held assumptions, it comes to this: there is no time to lose.
dreaming…
sweat rolls down
midnight
*
Haibun responding to “The Last Night of the World”, a Chamber opera by Agustí Charles inspired by Ray Bradbury’s short story of the same title. The State Theater of Augsburg commissioned it, and it premiered on 24.1.2025 at the Brechtbühne im Gaswerk. I saw it a few days later.
Día de los Muertos
the ones we loved
the ones we lost
clocks going back
tobacco smell clings
to my childhood
.
searching for light…
wool, water, soap and
the magic of felting
