People in general do not understand haiku

it isn't 17 syllables nor a nature poem








my darkness deepens
moon
crescent sets





wind chimes issue 22





Indian summer
dandelion seeds
whiten the spider web






water strider
skims across
my reflection






Recovery (short poem)


a wall
of voices broken
glass that night you slashed
your hand
and went to bed,
bleeding,
pieces-- not to be remembered.
full moon
cool and crisp,
my voice veiled in it's transparency.
the smoothness
of your hands
pressed and pounded,
my heart
in the breaking waves.
and hands so
warm-- I was crying.
thoughts shattered
and rearranged into smiles.
I know again my own fragilty.
rain
in an open window
I stop and breath
the silence.




Sky Lark Special American Women's Edition Number 52 (1984)
(India's leading English quarterly devoted exclusivley to modern poetry.)