• Mike Montreuil


    Looking at the maps on your body, I knew I had found a far away land, a Shangri-La.  I did not want to know your home port’s name, only that I wanted to bring you back and never return.  You did not believe in the calm seas of your skin.  You were at home in the mountains of the desert, rough, harsh and sometimes devoid of life.  It is who you are, you said, as I hung up the phone. 

    months at sea –
    different time zones
    and tears

    Mike Montreuil lives in Ottawa, Ontario, Canada. He spends his spare time people watching at his local Timmies, while waiting for hockey season to begin.

  • Myron Arnold

    my retirement plan
    in a jar


    on the oceans edge
    his confession


    outpatients …
    my appointed time
    has long passed


    where the lake was …
    an osprey


    flipping sides
    as they quarrel


    hands caressing
    a new book…
    eyes, too


    sunrise tai chi
    the pops and clicks
    of a warming house

  • Naomi Beth Wakan

    at the clinic
    I know everyone
    in the waiting room . . .
    growing old together
    we now share diagnoses


    a pile
    of detective stories
    by my chair
    as if solving murders
    can help me deal with death


  • Naomi Wakan

    for the coming year
    now thin strokes
    now thick strokes
    foretelling the months to come

    Hokusai's wave
    awaited the Prussian
    blue dye
    occasionally it's good
    to let a stranger in

  • Nika & Jim McKinniss

  • Novak, Veronika Zora


  • Novak, Veronika Zora

    screaming in silence full moon

    reinventing the sound of sky starlings


    hung in a Jesus Christ pose scarecrow


  • Novak, Veronika Zora

    frozen butterfly . . .
    i too know the touch
    of winter 

    deep within —
    the melody of a 
    fallen tree

    a coyote its voice —
    river of mist

  • Novak, Veronika Zora

    cupped hands—
    i drink the rhythm
    of rain

    Chrysanthemum Issue 20

  • Novak, Veronika Zora

    curling up in the sound
    of rain

    Chrysanthemum Issue 24

  • Read, Dave


    swallowed by a river of ice ageing


    fearing the space I can’t maintain my breath


    lights on all over the house fly


    a river bends my thoughts in the woods


    pausing a moment in traffic traffic


    a shadow drifts into the dead headlight rabbit



  • Read, Dave

    the facts I alternate between satellites


    spring dreams...
    last year’s butterflies
    sewn into her eyelids


    ants tend
    to the hole in the hill
    with more ants!


    she finds the light switch off my enemies


    a distant galaxy...
    I gather my yardstick
    and will to work late


    shrinking space
    the elevator drops
    my call



  • Round Bales of Hay

    shivering dusk
    freshly cut grass
    in the bed

    drhtaj sumraka
    svježe pokošena trava
    u krevetu
    scent of soup—
    entering the attic darkness
    head first
    miris juhe—
    ušavši u tminu tavana
    broken guitar string
    no one else noticed
    until now
    puknutu žicu gitare
    još nitko nije primjetio
    do sada
    round bales of hay . . .
    the family reunites
    on Granddad’s veranda
    okrugle bale sijena . . .
    okupljanje obitelji
    na djedovoj verandi


    Dejan Pavlinović, Croatia
    Michael Dudley, Canada
    Tomislav Maretić, Croatia

    *each haiku is written collaboratively by the three authors

  • Scott Packer

    wet a writing stone —
    tales twice told

  • Scott Packer

    missing her
    the surface tension
    of water

  • Sonja Arntzen

    winter rain falls,
    taking shelter under dark firs
    an alpaca pair
    flanks touching for warmth
    consolation for me too

    first picnic outdoors
    at our feet clustered crocus
    open to the sun,
    drunken bees revelling
    in their golden pollen

  • Sonja Arntzen

    winter twilight ---
    is what I see real or
    a figment of desire
    crimson aura around
    the plum tree next door

    spring has passed
    while I listened so intently
    to the song sparrows
    I could almost score
    their compositions

  • Strange, Debbie

    transience . . .
    petal by petal
    we let go

    Winning Haiku, Canada - 2017 VCBF Haiku Invitational

  • Strange, Debbie

    soft rain
    the lily and I with stars
    in our throats


    wet leaves seal the holes
    in his boots

    out-breath . . .
    a sheet of glass falls
    from my paddle


    rush hour
    the quiet helicopters
    of maple seeds

    rolling thunder
    kiss-curls at the base
    of your neck


    office windows
    the mountains will wait
    for me


    the blue eyes
    of African daisies
    how I miss you

    pond ice
    the things we lost
    last summer

  • Strange, Debbie

    early thaw
    the morning chimes
    of waxwings


    hoodoo spires . . .
    a buck's antlers tinged
    with sunset


    shell fragments
    the chirps of otters
    in the dark