A new issue of Prune Juice: Journal of Senryu, Kyoka & Haiga has just been released. This will be the last issue edited by Liam Wilkinson, before he turns it over to Curtis Dunlap. I’m pleased to have three of my senryu in this issue, and to share the pages with so many haiku poets I know from Facebook or other journals, including: Johnny Baranski, Mark Brager, Susan Constable, Curtis Dunlap, Lorin Ford, Terri French, Christina Nguyen, Stella Pierides, Lucas Stensland, Alan Summers, and Kath Abela Wilson. Here are my three:
the dryer vent
full of lint
agreeing to disagree
I set my wipers
she hugs her teddy bear
a little closer
Ah, summertime. I’m busy writing rengays, haiku, a few haibun, and keeping submissions in the pipeline. I’m pleased to have work appearing in upcoming issues of the following:
- Frogpond 35:2, Spring/Summer 2012 (1 haiku, 1 rengay, and 1 renray),
- contemporary haibun online, July 2012 (3 haibun)
- Prune Juice #9 , July 2012 (3 senryu)
- Daily Haiku (my third batch of haiku for Cycle 13), beginning on July 15
- A Hundred Gourds 1:4, September 2012 (3 haiku)
- The Heron’s Nest, Volume XIV, Number 3, September 2012 (1 haiku)
- LYNX, October 2012 (a rengay sequence, with Kirsten Cliff)
What better way to start my Sunday morning, than by reading Aubrie Cox‘s latest collection fox dreams.This collection is chockfull of wonderful haiku, senryu, tanka, haiga, tanka prose, and rengay on the subject of… what else but foxes and dreams. Who knew there was so much to say?
I am delighted to have two haiku (one previously published), a tanka, tanka prose (my first ever), and a rengay included. The rengay was co-written with Kirsten Cliff. Altogether a delightful read, from cover to cover.
The latest issue of Prune Juice is now live, containing senryu, kyoka, and haiga by me and a number of my Facebook friends, including Johnny Baranski, Mark E. Brager, Kirsten Cliff, Aubrie Cox, Margaret Dornaus, Curtis Dunlap, Terri French, Christine Nguyen, and Lucas Stensland.
I am pleased to have two senryu included in this issue:
my car keys
right where I left them
persistence of memory
my abs remember
It is always a red letter day to receive news that one of my poems has been accepted for publication. I currently have haiku, senryu, short form poetry, tanka, haibun, and rengay that was selected to appear in upcoming issues of the following publications:
- Four and Twenty
- The Heron’s Nest
- Haibun Today
- A Hundred Gourds
- Modern Haiku
- The Haiku Foundation Haiku App Database 2012
- Notes from the Gean
- Prune Juice
NaHaiWriMo- Day 27
Today’s prompt was to write a deliberately bad haiku. It turns out it wasn’t so easy! Sometimes a haiku was so “bad” that it was actually quite funny– almost a “good” senryu. So I had to work hard to create something that was so over-the-top that no one could actually take me seriously. Here it is:
six scaly, somnolent snakes
One challenge complete, another just beginning. February 1 marks the first anniversary of NaHaiWriMo. Although I’ve stepped out now and then to recharge my haiku-writing batteries, I have been fairly consistent about writing a haiku a day since last February. How do I love NaHaiWriMo? Let me count the ways… since then I have begun to feel more confident in writing haiku, made many haiku friends both online and in person, attended two haiku conferences and the annual Seabeck retreat, branched out and begun writing the related forms of tanka, haibun, senryu, and kyoka, had many publishing successes and contest placements, added dozens of books and journals to my haiku library, but most of all, have begun to feel like a valued member of the haiku community.
If you’ve been thinking of taking part in NaHaiWriMo, but not sure about the time commitment, the good news is that whether you choose to write one haiku, or all twenty-nine, you can still be part of the experience. More information about NaHaiWriMo can be found on Michael Dylan Welch’s NaHaiWriMo website.
And now, with no further ado, my first February 2012 NaHaWriMo haiku, as we work our way through the alphabet:
reaching for a red apple
on a gray morning