Category: Journal
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2103: Journal of SenHai
SenHai 44 Senryuwe built a crossingbut never asked if we’d returnthe same as we left Haikutimbers lost to mistno path completes what we begansilence spans the gap Written for SenHai Saturday. ©Misky 2006-2026.
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Witnesses
a collection of moments: nothing grand or forced. just soft, slightly askew truths of ordinary days — witnessed 21 March 2026, 07:34 I.a sparrow slipsinto the colour of barknothing left movingI look where it disappearedand cannot find it again. II.late morning lightwe stand where we can be seen,faces turned outward.Once, even we knew how todisappear…
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Witnesses
a collection of moments: nothing grand or forced. just soft, slightly askew truths of ordinary days — witnessed 20 March 2026, 09:17 I.a candle for hera candle for hima finger pressed in soil fertility in a seed sownon this day of bonfires. II.Ôstara morning light burns from our flames.warmth in the soilthe seed takes what…
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2003: Journal of Thoughts
El Capitan’s Lesson I came to you from the east,from Mono Lake’s dead and living watertangled with krilland seagulls by the million.A lake that does not know it’s dead. And the sun, that old familiar,washed your coarse-grain granitewith the same brightnessit has washed for hundreds of millions of years. Same colour. Same dip into darkness.Same.Again.Again.Centuries…
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Witnesses
a collection of moments: nothing grand or forced. just soft, slightly askew truths of ordinary days — witnessed 19.03.26, 11:46 eve before equinoxwe keep to winter’s last breath,palms in cooling soil.no fire, not yet. in the fieldthe hare lifts its head, listening. Happy Ostara to all who celebrate it. © MB 2026
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Witnesses
a collection of moments: nothing grand, nothing forced. just soft, slightly askew truths of ordinary days — witnessed 18.03.26, 11:28 windows left ajarthe smell of soap and wet soildrifting through the street. first warm day of springcars washed, gardens speaking back,doors open at last.the doctor’s wife tells me:he died there, weeks ago. © MB 2026
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1603: Journal of SenHai
Senryucenturies watchingstill the mountain greets the sunas if the first time Haikufirst light on granitenight loosens its quiet gripthe valley exhales Written for SenHai Saturday #43. ©Misky 2006-2026.
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1403: Spring Thoughts
The blues bow their heads.The yellows shiver.Purple crocuses tighten. They do not know the wind is turning,do not feel North’s cold bladeat their throat. “Of course they don’t know,”says the crow from his bare March branch,“they believe in tomorrow.That’s what makes them flowers.” Some images are a collaboration with Midjourney; all writing is my own…
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1303: Journal of Thoughts
The House Learns Its Tune Decades I’ve lived here,and only now do I hear it when the wind comes off the sea,south by southwest,my house sings. The gales are no destroyers.They are fingerson the roof tiles,a hand at the chimes.Each slate, a note.Each ridge, a phrase held long. Gusts draw themselvesover the windowsills,thin lips to…
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1203: Three Poems for Sahara Air
I. Senryudust from distant sandseven the old oaks seem unsurewhich land they belong to II. Haikusahara driftingbare branches fade into mistfar from their desert III. Sahara Morning, West Sussex This morningthe woods forgot their colour. Oak and birchstood quietly in borrowed air,their branches holdinga breath from another continent. Somewhere far awaya desert wind lifted its…
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