1
we ran outside
          gathering the hailstones

before they could return
        
to rain

2
spring thunder storms
        refreshed the

runoff ponds
        
the spring peepers
        chorus chirps


3
soon, to be Indra, Lord of Heaven,
        the God of War as well as Storms and Rainfall,
starter of war

a war which shall engulf
     the planet and

        perish all

4
in solid,
ice
       which shall melt

and drown the littoral lands
lands peopled in the
        billions
and so shall follow
disease plague typhus dysentery
death
         in its many shapes and sizes

5
in drops
       flows from your eye


6
according to religion
        holy water

1
when i woke up again
on the bathroom floor
the tiles were so hard and cool
you stood over me looking
into the mirror with the long
flowing hair hanging down,
which surprised me, as your
hair had not been this long since
1984, why did you let the house spin so,
just, please let me have
a glass of water

2
the owls call a warning
the moon creeps over
the lawn and crosses the
threshold of the window,
the moon has waited so
patiently behind the
line of maple trees along
the ridge,
to wake me now, with the
owl calling, the moon,
the moon

3
the next time i wake
sitting on the edge of
my daughters bed as
she whimpers and jerks
in her sleep, i try to slip
away, and she grasps out,
again, for my hand, soft
her hand is so soft, and
small, in my hand

4
your long hair, the owls
hooting for the moon,
my daughter's soft hand,
whimpering, softly too,
in the night, and the
bathroom tiles, so pink
and so cold, i wonder
did i choose this
wallpaper, or did you?

Hey Fragments! a Haiku Contest!!

Spring is everywhere.

We want everyone to contribute to the first, "Quarterly Season Greetings Haiku Contest!"

We will select a panel of judges, who will send me their three favorite haiku submissions. The haiku with the most selections will be declared the "winner" and enjoy a warm feeling of satisfaction.

Please, have those haiku in by the end of May

No limit on the number of submissions. Your haiku should follow the traditional form, but as always, the poem is more important than strict observance of form.

Write Every Day!

John and LP

i.
we crossed the river
avoiding the worst of
the strainers and yet
you pinned us against
a boulder almost midstream

ii.
i leaned against the wave
hoping to avoid getting
     pushed under
slowly we spun against the side
and emerged to shoot across a
     bow wave

iii.
i turned to cheer you for
clearing this first hazard
only to see the oars drift past
and you were gone

iv.
we pulled into a *******
at the next eddy
to laugh and scout
the rapids below

v.
i walked back, wading on the
river's edge, a view downstream
showed me eternity, the river flowing
to the sea, and yet,
i could see my feet on the stones
     of the riverbed

1
         i watch the ice
melt from the roof,

in slow drips, the one
     chasing the other down,

slipping to the pool of
water, edging out onto

  the driveway, where, tonight,
i expect it will refreeze

2
        and,
i wonder,

if i have given you something
and you have given me something

         a gift neither expected
nor intended

       will the sun shine any warmer?

1

              is it enough, ever, merely to wait

upon the coming of the night, or
     can i seek it out in places in which
it might be
              lurking

2

         look for the stars

but not the moon, for the moon
shall hide her face until the stars have swept
    
                 the sky clear

3

         these thoughts crowd my mind as i sit

the desert cold and the air clean as a
   coyote sings for his brothers, or his sisters, or
just calling,
              calling for the moon, again

4

          in this ancient place, above the river

which flows, even at night, swift and brown
     carrying its life mournfully to the ocean
down and down and down through this ancient
         canyon

5

     again the coyote calls, again

where is the moon,
     the great, vast mesa of desert sand
stretches before us, and, on the horizon
a sandstone tower rises,
     distant, austere;

6
        
         and in the night, as far as the
eye could see, fading and falling, in low pleats,
     the grey sand dunes,

         with the wild prickly desert plants on them,
which always seemed to be
         running away, to some moon country,
uninhabited of men

i.
the blood scared me
would mother be angry
maybe stitches
the hot anger of betrayal
mixed like a bonnet pepper
to spice the fear
and the confusion

ii.
playing with friends
in the neighborhood woods
the oldest of three brothers
threw a wooden potato
masher and struck me
in the back of the head

iii.
the root cellar seemed
a good place to hide
i ran out of the wood
across the open field
across the street
in through the
open garage door
the kitchen entrance
to the mud room
and down the back
stairs to the laundry,
might she be there,
and into the root cellar
filled with mold, dust,
and musty mason jars

iv.
hiding there, i forget
how long now, but the
had the blood stopped
running warm and sticky
down the back of my neck
i felt a swollen lump
and an aching head

v.
i do not remember
now how long i hid
there in the root cellar
but the feeling of betrayal
the sense of exclusion
the intense longing
to be a part of that
boyhood group
all seemed lost

vi.
some things are
not forgivable
deliberate cruelty
is not forgivable
i hope that cruelty
is the only real thing
i lost, crying, in that
cellar, so long ago
deliberate cruelty
the one thing of which
i have never been guilty