| contents: current issue | contents: this issue | submissions | email | archive | about roadrunner |

August 2006 Issue VI:3


Ann K. Schwader

on the shed roof
his thoughts his own
wind chimes
answer each other
winter's end
blue flax
back from the roots
clearing sky


Gregory Hopkins

    stormy night
I read her letter
out loud
  so cold
the moon
the shadows
of our lives


Perry D. Guevara

in the grey winter
cold        she blooms
      origami            flowers
  my eyes
blink    a lot
like the stars
    she sleeps on a hill
beneath the man
        in the moon


Keith Heiberg

    sudden gust
in the maple:
forgotten rain
  changing his mind,
the child orders
the rain to fall
now that the mushrooms are up
the moon can set


Keiko Izawa

I'm thinking
    thinking, thinking. . .
         crescent moon
 our heartbeats synchronized
   autumn moonlight
    measuring his love
in the last ice cube. . .
  summer night


Carolyn Hall

    new yoga stretch
flood waters begin
to recede
  lakeside walk
the sunlit glow
of a red umbrella
homeward-bound . . .
down through the clouds
snow-capped granite


Patrick Frank

my son tells me about the darkness inside himself
crickets sing inside and out waiting for Linda to join me in bed
the cry of a solitary bird just before the creation of green


Ashley Rodman

the countless stars
of butterfly weed
  light curves
in the tomcat’s eye
blood moon
in the rose moss
a clay pot


paul pfleuger jr.

with you
at the back of my tongue—
the East River
the lives I've led
by this dark river
only in name
in the depths of autumn
merely something
we slap together


John Barlow


  a well-endowed
marble god      seed pods
pop in the heat
old pier . . .
a shoal of small fish
rain-ripple the surface
splattered black
a fisherman paddles
ink from a squid


Lynne Rees

at the top of the hill
I am still
the same size
a raindrop
balanced on a leaf of grass –
someone is crying
bright star
shining close to the moon …
my emails unanswered


Bruce Ross

Earth Day
a faded blue trail sign
on an old tree
branch by branch
up the old pine
spring wind
spring morning
slower than the clouds
two crows


Robbie Gamble

my side of the bed
her side of the bed
fall equinox
dead deer
on the highway shoulder
fifth of July
muggy night
deep in the fridge


Margarita Engle

the night blooming
the lone cloud
above its shadow
the fragrance
of names


Copyright © 2004-2006 by Roadrunner Haiku Journal. All rights revert to the authors upon publication.