Tag: haibun
-
A Cataract Surgery Experience
The words I could read without needing glasses. The words on a screen I suddenly couldn’t. The word “cataract” said aloud by a new ophthalmologist. The legion of eyedrops in preparation. The anesthesia flowing through an I.V. The swallowing darkness and euphoria. The voice saying, “Look at the light.” The glowing, blue triangles in a…
-
Haiku Happenings #4: “Haibun Monday…” hosted by yours truly over at dVerse
HH #4: I host Haibun Monday today over at dVerse. The Pub is open! Come join us!
-
PSA: “& We’re back…”
Miss me? I surely missed you! & you deserve an explanation. Plus, it makes a good story. rising over the horizon the sun It began with a blurry screen. Suprisingly, I had no such problems at work. “Oh well, I had a good run,” I thought to myself. So I dug up an old pair…
-
PSA: See you next week
No, I’m not randomly disappearing again. But I am going to be offline this week. Expect me when you see me. seagull’s cry above the horizon the sun
-
Ordinary Noise
The gurgle of water in the sink from the running dishwasher. Her Portuguese chatter on the phone with an overseas relative. The tapping of my fingers on a MacBook keypad. The rushing whirl of air as the AC engages. The sounds of sequestered living on day two of egg-cooking heat. clear sky the heat shimmer…
-
A Simmering First
Searing heat on the first day of the first heatwave of this summer. We make a tactical retreat from the deck to the living room. & even though the AC hadn’t turned on before mid-afternoon, we felt an all-too-sultry sensation even inside. But the day’s errands continue. Mira keeps her appointments. & I write a…
-
A Career Remembrance
First classroom. I’m a young twenty-something, newly hired teaching assistant at Pomona Middle School. Our teacher presents the class assignment. A few moments later, a pleasantly plump 8th grader looks at me and asks, “What to do?” as though it never happened cuckoo cry Next classroom. The fire-rated door of room 452B closes. Fifteen quiet,…
-
Our Life on Mars
You would have turned 86 years old today, Mom. Probably would have celebrated with another covert Marlboro on the bench outside your door. Or sipped another red wine while seated at your monstrosity of a wall-unit desk, doing your “stuff.” A lifetime away from the day I emptied the old house of all of your…
