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November 2007 Issue VII:4



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this rain on the windows of a hawk's wings  
what can hold
what can be held
pearl in the oyster I release


mountains and rivers...
the gaping mouth
of a just-born bear

Sabine Miller




blood moon
a poppy blooms
in Afghanistan



do you return each night
to this plum tree


Josh Wikoff




out of the blue
a crow coming out of
a crow

a death
in the mirror
my eyes are closed

Peter Yovu




in the bag of crickets an inexplicable blue feather
on the dry part of the napkin floating in the bowl a moth
your panties soaking in the sink today the crocus bloomed

held together by grass coat hangers of different colors in the pond

Chris Gordon




new moon
I use one cell phone
to find another's
the tang of late summer brine on my lips
Andrea Grillo




    a blood orange cloud the monks march on

Helen Buckingham




hatchling walking sticks

no not alone

Lee Gurga




my father's broken worry stone
Allan Burns





the taste of dust
vultures circle
a lost star

N.C. Whitehead



vexing laughter
the equanimity of things
that just aren’t


retrogression’s onus
an arcane moral code
must be followed

Jeff Winke




i can't find the time destroyed by the past
out of nowhere isn't
sadness sneaks into a poem about the red gladiola

a pond turtle rises from 200 million years

marlene mountain





fading tan a peso in the penny jar

Bob Lucky




nothing matters how green it gets
rather listen to night with nothing on
bird me catch me
John Stevenson




walking among the dead
all the flowers I avoid

Karen R. Porter





a barge ascends
  within the lock
     spring dusk

Matthew Paul





the boiling point
a robin's song

Laryalee Fraser





mountain pass
the pressure of silence  
fills my being

erect sunflower the shadow shrinks into itself

Kala Ramesh




in deep woods the darkness around your voice
mountain view one thought builds upon another
all those stars one nipple then the other

winter I call a tree by name

Gregory Hopkins



morning breeze garden oak throwing shadows into itself
not knowing its name who am I to the wild grass
blue metals fastening the air dragonflies
John W. Sexton



This scar I've come to love the autumn badlands 
Dumplings steaming in the face I've lost 

Grotesque hands stroke the withered grass to life

Perfect skies 
crossing the Tropic of Cancer
early for work
Paul Pfleuger, Jr.




in dress uniform
Death offers up
his seat


Jason Sanford Brown




Haiku Sequence in the Sufi Spirit

    In which chamber
of your heart, beloved,
    is our bed?

    your breast
against the moon
    induces prayer

    not letting go
a piece of honey
    on your lip

    withered grass
on a dry plain--
    rain on me

William Ramsey

Copyright © 2004-2007 by Roadrunner Haiku Journal. All rights revert to the authors upon publication.