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Back to the Modern American Haiku Poets

Vincent Tripi's Haiku


Without a trail…
the silence of snow falling
around the mountain

End of a windy day…
the last light lingers
among the pampas plumes

In the snow
around the carousel
tracks of a horse

White lilac scent—
the dollhouse at the window
with its window open

Left open wide
at the centre
the butterfly book

a thousand feet above the hummingbird
the condor's wings

Staring at me
from the roar of the river
a wild horse

Autumn colors
breaking through the haze
the wood duck settles

With me the same cloud      out of the covered bridge 

october loneliness
two walking sticks

Colouring itself across the pond the autumn wind

Owl feather
in my palm
—the feel of moonlight

Waving back
at the poppy fields
the retarded child

Beside the waterfall . . .
opening with all its blue
the bellflower

The turtle’s plash
just around the corner
a river Baptism

Winter evening—
grandma's recipe for bread
among my poems

Snow again
in my cabin somehow
knowing it is Christmas

We hold each other
tight around her deathbed

Around the entrance, floor
everywhere in the bear’s den
cherry petals

My reflection...
remembering the name
of the stream

On the pond

Moth outside—
the midwife works
by candlelight

Splashed across
a thousand years of growth ring
spotted owl egg

the cat in
the fog in

Farmer's Market—
her cucumber
longer than mine


Vincent Tripi (US, 1941-)