Haiku in a Hard Year

A chapbook in progress written over the course of 2025. At the beginning of the year, in what felt like the beginning of a period of upheaval, and following a years-long hiatus from committing to poetry, haiku provided a small, structured doorway back into poetic practice. I would think of them while walking the dog, type them in a notes app before drifting off to sleep, or would find myself counting syllables on my fingers while driving around Seattle.

Some examples are below, and a chapbook containing some of the haiku written during this hard year will be coming out soon.

In rain from the sink
I wash my oceans and stars.
Warm water, my hands


2.11.25





Walk through sugared air.
Crows blacken the trees above,
streets thick with flowers.


3.26.25





Clearest, warmest day --
Schoolkids gathered at windows
talking tornado.


3.28.25





Touch nose to lilac,
memorize it as future
honey for dark days


4.25.25






Pork in the smoker
Illuminated flowers
made of gunpowder.


7.6.25




​
Sometimes hope is just
a seagull in heavy fog
with bent, sunlit wings.


12.16.25

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