70d4y 1 45k3d my531f c0u1d 7h353 j0k325 d3519n1n9 ch34p um8231145 23411y 83 w02k1n9 und32 7h3 455ump710n 23c1p13n75 w111 83 u51n9 7h3m 1n 2320-w1nd c0nd1710n5?! p23p057320u5 5u231y 7h3 f4c7 7h47 7h3 5119h7357 823323 w111 7u2n 7h3 7h1n95 1n51d3-0u7 1mm3d14731y w0u1d h4v3 833n 23c09n123d 7h312 unm1574k4813 f14w5 3xp053d 1n 4 m1nu73’5 f131d 73571n9 50 wh47’5 23411y 901n9 0n h323?

DIMMING VIEW

423 7h3y 5k1mp1n9 0n m47321415 70 54v3 4 8uck? 02 423 7h3y 72y1n9 70 5311 u5 4 n3w 0n3 4f732 3v32y 51n913 2u8815h u5493 wh3n 34ch c24ppy m0d31 c2ump135 p47h371c411y? 807h?

BUT FOR THE OCCASIONAL BURST

317h32 w4y 7h353 7h1n95 1n 3553nc3 423 pu231y d3c02471v3 1f 72u3 84d w347h32 c0m35 420und w111 p20v3 u77321y u531355 532v3 n0 v14813 func710n 83y0nd 831n9 p4111471v3 p20p5 4nd h4v1n9 7h3m 0n 0u2 5h31v35 837w33n 5702m5 p2353n75 f4153 53n535 0f 53cu217y 91v35 7h3 w20n9 1mp235510n 7h47 wh3n 241n5 c0m3 w3’11 83 3qu1pp3d 70 23m41n d2y 4nd p2073c73d wh3n qu173 7h3 c0n7242y 15 1n f4c7 d3732m1n3d w111 p20v3 70 83 7h3 c453 34ch 71m3 w17h c32741n7y 17’5 f2u572471n9 83c4u53 7h3y w0n’7 8u11d 4 5h31732 f02 u5 70 hudd13 und32  7h20u9h 7h353 1nc13m3n7 71m35 50 f11m5y um8231145 423 411 w3 h4v3 mu57 m4k3 d0 w17h.

OF LIGHTNING

Jerome Berglund

A dog barks scaring the finch away from the feeder just as I let the smallest hurdle keep me from seizing what I really want and limping away in another direction looking for something big and safe instead of tiny and precious but each time I go for safe my heart is chipped away just a little bit more becoming an empty space for dogs to bark or birds to feed with a lock on the gate to keep out everything else.

mulberry tree…
swimming in a pool
of dead leaves.

Lafcadio

It just keeps getting hotter. “Out of the frying pan, eh,” I say to her. “Into the fire,” she hisses. “The devil made me do it,” say I. “Snake eyes,” she replies. And so we keep rolling the dice, as we pass the fan magazine back and forth, and dream of celebrity.

moonlight
on marble nipples
the watchman fast asleep

Robert Witmer

I regret never being in love. I regret not having a monkey or a black cat. I regret not being a vampire. I regret that I have not bitten any of my girlfriends on the neck. I regret that I am not the lifeless black bird that hangs from the thorn that knots Frida’s neck. But I am satisfied that every morning god allows me to read a poem.

the things i’ve done —
handing snowflakes
back to the sky

(Ekphrastic haibun based on ‘Self-Portrait with Thorn Necklace and Hummingbird’, Frida Kahlo (1940)

Réka Nyitrai & Alan Peat

Monday is the deal day and
a family trip to the alley
works out best for everyone and
everything that comes out of pocket
and we keep rolling the slotted balls
toward the ten pins trying to beat
each other along with the pins
after we have worked out
what sizes and what weights
work best for each but I keep
shuffling the sizes till the end.

quick picks
who knows what
dices will roll out

Biswajit Mishra

haphazardly
gluing the cut closed
bird’s nest

Takes a lot of faith to let yourself go knowing god of choice may as likely catch you as allow to drop helps being a little inebriated when you’re tipsy fall better bounce right off intact spring readily up again also having infantile resilience the plump invulnerability allows rapid recovery from most grievous wounds spit out loaner teeth nonchalantly knowing definitive pair safely wait in storage training wheels temporary shuffled off without great concern any harm arising from renouncement.

deserted sky
a solitary cloud
comes unspun

Jerome Berglund

Certain topics I try to approach
with caution in the writing of haiku:
crow, dragonfly, firefly, for example,
falling leaves, skipping stones and, and,
and babbling brooks. There’s the moon
of course, the moon the moon the moon,
and scarecrow, spring breeze, new coolness,
blossom, birdsong, the way or the how of things.
Shadows go without saying. They’re everywhere.
And, being guilty of humanness, I too am prone
to the interrogation of owls, the hush of pines,
the stubble of starfish, all manner of raindrops
suspended from god knows what and for how long
exactly the reason to catch one, freeze-frame it
for over the mantle. A fate that has befallen me.

dryer on the fritz
the spring breeze
my mother raved about

Peter Newton

Deosil widdershins deosil widdershins the bird-feeder cages revolve at the stroke of a wing which leaves them empty of probing -beak to beak with a fledging a lesser spotted woodpecker flickers in black and scarlet while in the background the last giant poppy shudders a seedhead, one single petal hanging on in the shrivelling loss of its sheen…

river bridge streetlamp
halfway across the tip
in solstice light 

Diana Webb

She’s looking back at key points in her career. One stands out. She recalls it stage by stage. Jots it down in the third person present.

“Puts her head round the door. Gives them the thumbs up. It’s there in their eyes. Relief and excitement. Soon they will get their very first glimpse. There’s a sense of tension .”

new grandchild
hurdles towards the horizon
each Hokusai wave

“Good to observe them coming and going especially the older ones, some of them nervous.”

wrinkled smile
a dream of Einstein’s theory
coming back

“It’s been three months now. Must have seemed years. How lovely to see the matriarch back for that final appointment, proud and of use. Can almost hear her hum ‘twinkle twinkle’ “

holding the baby
in jars of frozen white liquid
the milky way glints

Diana Webb