bioluminescence
I skip a pebble across
the universe

1st Place, 2019 OtherWordly Intergalactic Haiku Competition
(first publication in Seashores, Volume 2, April 2019)

moonless
maple leaves ignite
the dusk

fields thronged
with sandhill cranes . . .
corn moon

bugling elk
fog softens the shape
of morning

the curve
of a dune's shadow . . .
day moon

rivulets of rain . . .
I trace the shape
of loneliness


veils of dust . . .
at least we have
this sunset

we amble
along an esker's spine
gravel shifting
into small symphonies
underneath our boots

ghost moths . . .
mother's pale hands
f l u t t e r
around the light
of her memories

sacred waters . . .
we sleep among pods
of sperm whales
suspended upright
in the ocean's belly

tear gas
the missing eyespot
on a moth's wing

trilliums
we learn to thrive
in your shadow


fourteen eyes
on the possum's back . . .
night train

false apology
the stiff tail feathers
of a ruddy duck

the spine
I used to have . . .
sea urchin

frozen trough
I cup the warm breath
of my horse

Sharpening the Green Pencil Haiku Contest (1st Place) 2018

it calls to your brush
the riptide surf, undertow
from an infinity of blues--
a taxi radio croons
Good morning heartache...

fishing for answers line breaks

nowhere brighter the moon in a puddle

ant bearing a leaf and a question

shopping list running out of despair

fallen leaves
right in & right out
the hospital’s revolving door

westerly gusts
a lean boy pumps gas
into a muscle car


heavy fog
I take directions
from departing geese


Christmas coming
the snowmen have smiles
where my grandchildren live

my
si
de
of
th
eb
ed
wa
ni
ng
mo
on

the deeper
into the forest
the deeper
into your shadow ---
a murmuring of pines

 
formal takeover
parading my first platoon
showtime kiddo
all of them older
and bigger than me

when she tells me
I quickly retreat saying
I need a shower
camouflaging my grief ---
one more school chum gone

 
this mind born
from no fixed point
now ebbing
my long narrative poem
stringing through space

old secrets
forever safe
in dementia ward

the scent . . . 
of a flower whose name 
I forget 

I curl behind
Eurydice under sheets
of soft watches

manic's afflatus –
legs of empty chariots
drawn by unicorns

battlemares  --
they beat and scream at 
riderless clouds

depression –
I pocket glasses to
look in your eye

Marc di Saverio is an English student at McMaster University in Ontario, Canada. His poetry, translations, criticism, artwork and Verso D'oggetti/Objectverse, have appeared in numerous journals. His chapbooks Sanatorium Songs (Cactus Press) recently appeared, and The Manifesto of Mortarism (Cactus Press) is forthcoming.

a deer rests his head
on the back of another
fording a stream ---
do we share our burdens
as charitably?

 
quivering aspens
natives call you noisy leaf ---
above the chatter
I order a latte
at the corner cafe

a mirror falls
and down its oval face
a crack appears ---
in this fragile relationship
more bad times than good

 
purple-tinted cloud
patches of rosy-pink snow
high in the Rockies
my daily cares
thin as mountain air

afternoon sunbeams
filter through venetian blinds
in zigzagging lines . . .         
these procrastinations
first I'll do this---no that

making up words               
from overturned letters     
in Scrabble . . .
I wonder is this where
my tanka will come from?

Mary Franklin has tanka published in Gusts, Eucalypts, Ribbons and Simply Haiku.  She lives in Vancouver, BC

rustling embers
whispers of ash and pine
a log shifts