Tuesday, February 24, 2015


                                         A WINTER AFTERNOON
The kitchen at dusk.  A soft bubbling from the pot on the back burner.  An old man at the table.  His full stomach keeps the chair several inches away.  A merry face.  Pink with a full white mustache.  On his equally pink bald head is a black knit cap.

He pours dark red wine made from his own grapes, sips, smacks his lips.  Now a glass for me, much smaller, watered down, befitting my size.  I copy him, dip a chunk of stale bread in my wine. It dissolves in my mouth to nothing. Tangy juices spurt down my throat and my chin.  The old man, my grandfather, wipes my dribbles with his handkerchief.  I am five years old.

                                   steam covered windows
                                   a snow carrying wind
                                   rattles the back gate

Ray’s Web Page, 9/17/2003



Saturday, February 14, 2015

Haiku for Valentine's Day

                                                he brings me flowers
                                                in perfect symmetry
                                                the love we share                                           

                                                bag of shells
                                                the scent of love
                                                still there

                                                gentle is his touch
                                                balancing my desires
                                                with his

Kukai, June 2013
Haigonline, Oct. 2013

Monday, February 9, 2015