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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