May 13th 2016

When I wrote last night’s haiku, William Carlos Williams’s poem The Red Wheelbarrow was in the back of my mind—which could almost, itself, be a kind of haiku. Sometimes the haiku is simply a description of what’s there and nothing more, needing nothing more.

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rainfall—
····the moon’s smudge in the black
········clouds

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How long since I’d written about the moon?—a staple of Japanese haiku. Going out tonight the rain was light enough and the clouds thin enough to see its glow—but still a dark night.
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189 May 13th 2016 | bottlecap