Three Ugly Kyōka

a gnarled branch
twists its sinewy limb
from a crag;
its grotesque beauty
reminds me of me

on the rice paddies
show the sky
in an angry gray,
but dampen its scowl

glacier melt
leaves a great scar
gouged in the earth;
the gray and brown wound
looks like man’s doing


Distant Hills [a Haibun]

Raising my gaze, the world at a distance is softer, its contours green, a luscious green, a green which recalls past Springs. The foreground is rough and rocky, littered with rocks, some dull and others wet and glistening. A creek burbles, I know not from whence it comes. Just as I can’t say who dragged in these smooth rocks and boulders.
i look up
and the world ahead
pulls me forth

Five Hampi Haiku

flat waters
glide wide at the bend,
their might mute

boulders stacked
in precarious piles —
yet they stand

the palm trees
stand over stone ruins —
upright sentries

a leaning tree
reaches its gnarled, bent trunk
to shade pilgrims

strange landscape —
rubble swept into piles
by what hand?