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Michael Dylan Welch's Haiku
paper route—
knocking a row of icicles
from the eave
first
on the trail—
the pull of a spider’s strand
across my face
clouds
of pollen
drifting through sunbeams—
a sparrow’s sudden flight
after-dinner
mints
passed around the table
. . . slow-falling snow
meteor shower
a gentle wave
wets our sandals
toll
booth lit for Christmas—
from my hand to hers
warm change
spring
breeze through the window . . .
stains on an apron
left at the counter
the comb’s
broken tooth
disappears down the drain—
first morning light
grocery shopping—
pushing my cart faster
through feminine protection
quiet
afternoon —
leaves on her desk
arranged by colour
my neighbour’s
bicycle
locked to the fence—
drifting plum petals
bookmobile day—
huckleberries bloom
along the white picket fence
drifting
into the moon
toy sailboat
summer
solstice—
a rack full of hats
at the barbershop
scattered
petals . . .
the thud of my books
in the book drop
mountain
spring—
in my cupped hand
pine needles
spring
breeze—
the pull of her hand
as we near the pet store
tarnished
silver
the only guest
eats in silence
after the quake
.
. . the
weathervane
.
. . .
. . pointing
to the earth
landing
swallow—
the ship's chain
dips slightly
grey
sky—
the dog's water dish
iced over
first
snow . . .
the children's hangers
clatter in the closet
my
hand curves
to fit your breast . . .
the windowsill, snow-laden
home
for Christmas:
my childhood desk drawer
empty
blowing
leaves . . .
the shiny hearse
turns the corner
clicking off
the late movie . . .
.
. . the couch
cushion
.
. . reinflates
lit
by the sunset
waves along the shore
rolling the seal's body
record
high—
this heat
even in my toothpaste
visiting
mother—
again she finds
my first grey hair
an old woolen
sweater
.
. . taken
yarn by yarn
.
. . .
. . from
the snowbank
two crabs claw
to claw in the tidepool—
the flashlight dims
lazy
afternoon—
the digital temperature sign
rises one degree
you
squeeze my hand . . .
how still the sky
after fireworks
reading in bed
.
. . my
pulse flickering
.
. . the
lightly held bookmark
empty
silo
spring wind pops the metal
in and out
morning
bird song—
my paddle slips
into its reflection
chess
men in boxes . . .
the café's ceiling fan
turns by itself
.
. . gridlock
.
. . .
. . on
the freeway—
the skywriting drifts
the
table for one—
leaves rustle
in the inner courtyard
first cold night—
smell of hot dust
from the vent
old folks' home—
the square of light
crosses the room
nursing
home lounge—
a child's puzzle
left unfinished
beach
parking lot—
where the car door opened
a small pile of sand
night
falling
snow
wet
beach sand—
a sandpiper's song
of footprints
spawning
ground—
the ripple in the creek
becomes a fin
dense
fog—
I write your name
on the airport window
Fourth
of July—
grandma's throw
half way to the toddler
summer moonlight
.
. . the
potter's wheel
.
. . .
. . slows
low
summer sun—
the shadow of an earring
on your cheek.
fresh
snow on the mat—
the shape of welcome
still visible
my
face dripping . . .
the floppy-foot clown's
plastic flower
first
day of summer—
a postman delivers mail
in a safari hat
taking
invisible tickets
at the foot of the basement stairs—
child's magic
show
summer
heat—
two squirrels
meet on a wire
December
dawn—
the shape of the flower bed
under fresh snow
empty
field—
a hay rack
collecting tumbleweeds
a
withered apple
caught in an old spine rake
. . . blossoms fall
after
the quake
a hobo
directing traffic
after
the quake
adding I love you
to a letter
Valentine's
Day—
she reminds me
to fasten my seatbelt
Thornewood Poems
a
red berry on the trail
I look up
to the chickadee’s song
miner’s
lettuce
beside the trail—
fallen toyon berries
a
red toyon berry
at the trail’s edge—
the tinkle of a stream
first
on the trail—
the pull of a spider’s strand
across my face
a
switch-back
in the trail—
I glance at her face
a
climbing pea
has lassoed a blade
of crab grass!
trail
dust settles—
a shooting star bobs
over a spider’s turret
a
slow breeze . . .
sticky-monkey flower
barely moving
noon
sun—
fallen bark moss
swaying in a thistle
dried
horseshoe prints
more frequent
by the blackberry bramble
passed
from nose to nose,
a torn leaf
of pitcher sage
swaying
in the shadows
of the ancient oak,
honeysuckle berries
lifting
mugwort to her nose . . .
the hangnail
on her thumb
pausing
on the trail—
I run my hand
through brush grass
white
cabbage butterfly
rises from scattered toyon berries
through the horse’s
hooves
the
cool of shade—
a swarm of midges
brushes my arm
dried
leaves on the trail—
a thistle bends
in fern shadow
broken
to the heartwood—
an old meadow elm
after thunder
stopping
on the footbridge
to gaze at still pools—
a sparrow’s wings flutter
voices
on the trail . . .
the heap of deadwood
clogging the stream
blossoms
in the wind-shadow
a hiker stops
to sip his water
dried
thistle
bent across the trail . . .
trill of distant chickadee
between
the brambles,
a fern’s curve
up the trail
before
I sit,
I blow an ant
from the stump’s center
a
turn in the trail—
sky in the branches
of red madrone
scent
of jasmine . . .
a butterfly’s shadow
over trail mud
just
off the wood path,
a mouse’s bones
under a curled leaf
first
glimpse—
white swan
in the forest pool
valley
coolness—
the trail widens
near the wooded pond
clouds
of pollen
drifting through sunbeams—
a sparrow’s sudden flight
the
web between stumps—
a tree frog answers
the pond frog
stones
on the trail . . .
a downy feather
wafts in the breeze
new
shoots
on the big-leaf maple—
how blue the sky, how blue
a
mushroom cap
tilting in the sun—
I feel for my bald spot
a
white swan shakes her tail
at last the ripples
reach her mate
jays
squawk
from redwood tops—
the hush of distant traffic
water
striders
keep turning back
from the weir’s edge
at
the trail’s end,
the way we sit
beneath the redwoods
late
afternoon sun—
jumping in the leaf pile
to hear the crunch
roots
exposed
at the trail’s edge . . .
a banana slug’s path
afternoon
shade—
moss rubbed off
where the branches touch
http://sites.google.com/site/graceguts/
http://members.aol.com/WelchM/
http://www.millikin.edu/haiku/research/WelchGurga.html
http://www.millikin.edu/haiku/writerprofiles/DrouzasOnWelch.html
http://www.millikin.edu/haiku/writerprofiles/LudekOnWelch.html
http://www.family-net.net/%7Ebrooksbooks/welch/about.html
http://www.family-net.net/~brooksbooks/welch/contents.html
http://pages.infinit.net/haiku/etats-unis.htm#welch
Michael
Dylan Welch. The Haiku Gatekeeper (An Interview with Robert Spiess)
Online book: Open
Window, Brooks Books, 2000. http://www.brooksbookshaiku.com/welch/
Author's Books
Egret (haiku). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1989. John Thompson, ed. *Two Autumns* (one of four poets included). San Francisco: Two Autumns Press, 1990.
Tremors (a collection of earthquake haiku). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1990.
The Haijin's Tweed Coat (a haiku sequence). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1990. [winner of a Merit Book Award from the HSA]
Harvest (editor, 1991 Haiku North America conference anthology). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1991.
The Gulf Within (coeditor of anthology of Gulf War haiku). San Francisco: Two Autumns Press, 1991.
Fig Newtons: Senryu to Go (editor, and one of seven contributing poets— a collection of senryu). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1993. [winner of a Merit Book Award from the HSA]
The Shortest Distance (coeditor, 1993 Haiku North America conference anthology). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1993.
Footsteps in the Fog (editor, and one of six contributing poets—a collection of tanka). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1994.
Thornewood Poems (haiku sequence). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1994.
A Haiku Path (coeditor of a book about the history of the first twenty years of the Haiku Society of America). New York: Haiku Society of America, 1994.
Hammerhorn Lake (collection of rengay written with two other poets). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1994.
Northern Lights (editor, 1995 Haiku North America conference anthology). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1995.
Shades of Green (editor, 1997 Haiku North America conference anthology). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1997.
Wedge of Light (coeditor of haibun anthology). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1997. [winner of a Merit Book Award from the HSA]
Too Busy for Spring (coeditor, 1999 Haiku North America conference anthology). Foster City, California: Press Here, 1999.
Countdown (editor, 2000 Haiku Poets of Northern California members' anthology on the theme of the millennium and the New Year). San Francisco: Two Autumns Press, 2000.
Berries and Cream (interview with Jeanne Emrich on haiga). Foster City, California: Press Here, 2000.
The Haijin's Tweed Coat (second, expanded edition). Foster City: Press Here, 2000.
Paperclips (coeditor, 2001 Haiku North America conference anthology). Foster City, California: Press Here, 2001.
A more complete
list is available at:
http://sites.google.com/site/graceguts/books