Sunday morning
on our knees
scraping up pigeon droppings
This morning there are so many birds singing in the spotlight that it’s like waking up at a music box convention. I pirouette to the toilet without breaking anything other than a toenail and a desk lamp. In the kitchen I grab a cup of coffee and my wife, who lets me waltz her past the refrigerator and onto the balcony although it’s raining. We get as wet as a warbling tree-circling couple caught in the monsoon of a Bollywood film. And we all know what that means.
two pigeons
in mortal combat
mating season
is a regular contributor to haiku, haibun, and tanka journals. His fiction, nonfiction,
and poetry have appeared or are forthcoming in Flash, Rattle, Modern Haiku,
KYSO Flash, MacQueen’s Quinterly, SurVision, Haibun Today, The Haibun
Journal, and Contemporary Haibun Online (the latter for which he served
as content editor from July 2014 thru January 2020).
His chapbook of haibun, tanka prose, and prose poems, Ethiopian Time (Red Bird
Chapbooks, 2014), was an honorable mention in the Touchstone Book Awards. His chapbook
Conversation Starters in a Language No One Speaks (SurVision Books, 2018) was
a winner of the James Tate Poetry Prize in 2018. He is also the author most recently
of a collection of prose poems, haibun, and senryu, My Thology: Not Always True
But Always Truth (Cyberwit, 2019); and an e-chapbook, What I Say to You
(proletaria.org, 2020).
