. . . endolymph. . . endo . . . interior . . . dreams . . . inner voice . . . nymph . . . Rilke’s “a girl . . . made herself a bed inside my ear” . . . my ear . . . labyrinth . . . cochlea . . . conch . . . shell . . . sea . . . Aegean . . . crashing waves . . . stop! . . . waves lapping the shore . . . sails . . . seagulls . . . shrieks . . . my tinnitus . . . rushing water . . . endolymph . . .
wherever you go
the ship follows you . . .
siren song
-Stella Pierides
-Brendan Slater
“Did you…?”
“No.”
“But you didn’t even…”
“Okay, yes.”
“…let me finish.”
“I know.”
in media res the dreamscape of our lives
– Shloka Shankar
I am his special girl. There is something different about his touch, his smile, the way he looks at me. I stay awake for a long while that night.
my eyelids
heavy upon me
his breath
That same sickly sweet smell; that fuzzy feeling in the head on waking up; that uneasy feeling in my body. Looking out of the window, I see the handkerchief hanging precariously. I grab the proof and run to mama. She doesn’t want to know.
–Shrikaanth Krishnamurthy
the “new” e-coli’s look is unforgettable, they say
like bricks stacked one on top of another
we could have learned brick-making from the virus
or the virus could have learned its shape from our walls
a virus exposed to brick walls
shape-shifting to astound its host
then the kidneys fail, and the wall strengthens
those front guards
at recalcitrant disease
their sturdy hope
-Susan Diridoni
We arrived just in time to see the lighthouse go up in flames. The wingless ravens laughed, and the crimson waves gave birth to a toaster that we couldn’t use.
by the time you read this, I will have rolled off the cliff and into the sea.
when they speak of me, they will speak of a hill. they will speak of a river,
thick and slow with its own gravity. they will not understand why the
gentle, levelling slope was not enough. they won’t know that since the
day I was born, I’ve never been able to capture my own moon.
a knock at the door —
these old bones that just won’t
go
– Angie Werren
demo-piece by the editor
…
Erasure from “Christian Retirement”, London 1870, unknown author
What is the other bunny? Well, a place, a “running” journal, for the “other kind of haibun”, the kind of haibun you normally won’t find in (regular) haiku/haibun journals. This journal/blog/site will be updated continuously i.e. submitted work will be published as they are accepted by the editor (Johannes S. H. Bjerg). …
What to send: fictional haibun, sci-fi haibun, free verse + haiku, collage poems + haiku, mash-up texts + haiku, experimental + haiku, tiny haibun (max. 25-30 word prose), haibunga (haibun incorporated into an image/photo/collage/painting), manipulated non-fiction + haiku, asemic writing pieces + haiku and whatever you can think of.
What not to send: traditional haibun, haibun than dwells on past memories (childhood, failed loves etc. (private hurt)), nature observations, long walks, lost loves, tanka prose, no tanka whatsoever … what you can find elsewhere ;-)
Formats etc.: send a max. of 3 works at a time and wait for acceptance/rejection before you send in new stuff. Send doc, docx, odt (any Libreoffice/Openoffice format), pdf, jpg – practically anything except “pages” files (Mac) to: j_bjerg(@)yahoo(dot)com with “submission” [your name] in the subject line i.e. (Submission John Doe) REMEMBER to quote your sources if you use other people’s materials. Even if they are dead and copyrights have expired.
the other bunny 