​

long after

W.S. Merwin's

last breath . . .

his new poems whisper

in the wind in the trees

​​

Ribbons, Fall/Winter 2024 (Tanka Hangout section)

​​​

W.S. Merwin was one of my favorite poets of all-time who started The Merwin Conservancy in Hawaii, which includes "over 2,740 individual palm trees, featuring more than 400 taxonomic species and 125 unique genera, with nearly 900 different horticultural varieties, W.S. Merwin’s garden is recognized as one of the largest and most extensive palm collections known to exist on earth."

 

Source: https://merwinconservancy.org/garden/ 

​​

***

​​

a barred owl

settles in the shadows

of a birch tree —

the blur of grandpa's face

in a winter dream

​​

Ribbons, Fall/Winter 2024

​​

​

***

​

​

a long pause

with my sister

under swaying trees . . .

in Cedar Creek

his ashes drift away 

​

Hedgerow #146, 2024

​

​

***

​

​

in father's suitcase

the faint memories

of his absence

in Chinese receipts

the weight of ink 

​

Presence, issue #79, 2024

​

​

***

​

​

breathing in
the scent of cedar

in a log cabin

the embers still carry
her whispers

 

Eucalypt 36, 2024

​

​

***

​

​

a cold wall
crumbles into dust

between us . . .
admitting all the times
I've been wrong

 

the art of tanka, issue #2, 2024

​

​​

***

​

moonlight
revealing salmon

in the river's darkness
a trail of bones
in the bear's dream

 

Right Hand Pointing, April 2024 issue

​

​

***

​

​

moonlight
in the ocean's tide

this pull
to live on Earth
this pull to leave

 

Hedgerow #145, 2024

​

​

***

​

​

darkness
between shards of ice

on the lake
an unknown flower
frozen in time

 

Laurels, issue #1, February 2024

​

​

***

​

​

looking back

after a long journey . . .

her flame

is now a small star

over the endless sea

 

Ribbons, Spring/Summer 2024

​

​

***

​

​

the long arc
of our friendship

this wordless night
I stare into the depths
of the Milky Way

 

Ribbons, Spring/Summer 2024 (Tanka Hangout section)

​

​

***

​

​

not wanting

to be her partner—

from the dock

a rusted chain descends

in the dark water

 

2023 Tanka Society of America Members' Anthology

​

​

***

​

​

in the woods
I try to catch my father

on a small bicycle
as salmon swim upstream
never giving up

 

Take5 Journal, Autumn 2023​

​

​

***

​

​

playing board games

with my family

around a single lantern—

the warmth of our laughter

this cold night

 

Take5 Journal, Autumn 2023

​

​

***

​

​

a gust of wind
in father's story . . .
as the campfire settles
our faces disappear
this moonless night

 

Take5 Journal, Autumn 2023​

​

​

***

​

​

a curled leaf

falling without a sound

into deep water . . .

the touch of her hand

for the last time

 

the art of tanka, issue #1, 2023​

​

​

***

​

​

two stalks of bamboo
alive and dead
from the same roots
the tangled history
of our origins

 

Eucalypt issue 35, November 2023

​

​

***

​

​

autumn wind

weaves through a forest

in a dream . . .

the creek still carries

her whispers

 

Hedgerow #144, 2023​

​

​

***

​

​

her story
within a story
this autumn night . . .
layers of fog
hiding the mountain

 

Hedgerow #144, 2023​

​

​

***

​

​

holding you

for a long moment

by the forest creek

the water reminds me

to let go

 

Ribbons, Fall 2023: Volume 19, Number 3

​

​

***

​

​

indistinguishable
between our shadows

and tree beings
the long winding trail
of our words and laughter

 

Ribbons, Fall 2023: Volume 19, Number 3

​

​

***

​

​

sipping tea
with an old friend

in late summer —
a word slips
into koto strings

 

Ribbons, Winter 2023: Volume 19, Number 1 (Tanka Hangout section)​

​

​

***

​

​

the scent

of her cigarette smoke

lingering in my hair

our last words settle

into the night

 

Hedgerow #141, 2023​

​

​

***

​

​

walking alone

along the Columbia River

a rumbling train . . .

another thought fades

into the night

 

Ribbons, Fall 2022: Volume 18, Number 3

​

​

***

​

​

eating alone
under a pine tree
on Mount Hood
one ant explores
a piece of lettuce

 

Under the Bashō 2022 – Tanka, Tanka Prose & Tanka Sequences​

​

​

***

​

​

left behind
in father’s garage
unfinished projects —
I breathe in the scent
of metal and rain

 

Under the Bashō 2022 – Tanka, Tanka Prose & Tanka Sequences​

​

​

***

​

​

waking
from this dream
of raising a family
the weathered garden bed
covered in frost 

 

Under the Bashō 2022 – Tanka, Tanka Prose & Tanka Sequences

​

​

***

​

​

sunlit glass
on an overflowing
garbage can—
in the dusty mirror
grandfather's face

 

Under the Bashō 2022 – Linked Forms, Sequences and Contrapuntal Poetry

https://underthebasho.com/the-journal/under-the-basho-2022/tanka-tanka-prose-and-tanka-sequences/jacob-d-salzer.html

​

​

***

​

​

a time warp
in grandpa’s stream
my reflection
the long journey
of mountain rain

 

Under the Bashō 2022 – Linked Forms, Sequences and Contrapuntal Poetry

https://underthebasho.com/the-journal/under-the-basho-2022/tanka-tanka-prose-and-tanka-sequences/jacob-d-salzer.html

 

​

***

​

​

hidden faces

in the Makah totem pole

drifting fog . . .

in the palms of my hands

the smell of salmon 

 

Ribbons, Winter issue, 2022

 

​

***

​

​

a long pause

in the conversation

about grandma's death . . .

the sound of wind

between mountains

 

Hedgerow #137, 2022

 

​

***

​

​

driving home

from a blood donation

in pouring rain . . .

the blur of brake lights

and distant sirens

 

Eucalypt, issue #31, November 2021

​

​

***

​

​

red sunset

beneath 

the apple tree

two lovers

become still 

 

Hedgerow #135

 

​

***

​

​

friends chatting

in a warm Thai restaurant

this autumn night 

a homeless man slowly

passes by 

 

Hedgerow #135

 

​

***

​

​

soul migration—

remembering you

as morning birds sing

a flock disappears

into a deep purple sky

 

In memory of haiku poet Metra (Martha) Magenta (March 13, 1949—January 14, 2020)

 

Ribbons, Spring/Summer 2021 issue

 

​

***

​

​

now that I have seen

the other side

of darkness…

once more I am a small child

slowly climbing into the light

 

Mare Liberum: Haiku & Tanka (Lulu.com, 2020)

 

​

***

 

​

winter rain

reading a letter

from a prisoner…

the dark ink soaks

into his past

 

Mare Liberum: Haiku & Tanka (Lulu.com, 2020)

 

 

***

​

​

brisk wind

through a maple tree

in late winter

our shadows

become still 

 

Distant Sirens: Tanka 

 

​

***

 

​

tears

during grandma's funeral . . .

from unseen mountains

the Columbia River flows

into the sea

 

涙せし祖母の葬式...遥かなる山より海へとコロンビア川行く

 

Honorable mention at the Mt. Fuji Tanka Grand Prix 2018

Mare Liberum: Haiku & Tanka

 

​

***

 

darkness
in the deep woods
sleeping starlings . . .
these old trees do not know
our names

 

Skylark 6:2, Winter 2018

Distant Sirens: Tanka

​

​

***

 

alone…

beside

a mirror

I stare into

my Mother’s face

 

Yanty’s Butterfly: Haiku Nook: An Anthology

​

Revision note: removal of “glass” from original version in line 3.

 

​

***

 

 

red sunset

through the blinds

my neighbor’s dog

howls at the pitch

of distant sirens

 

Yanty’s Butterfly: Haiku Nook: An Anthology

Distant Sirens: Tanka

 

​

***

 

stopping

to carry the weight

of my father's luggage

his mole hills

now mountains                       

 

A Hundred Gourds, June 2016

Distant Sirens: Tanka 

 

​

***

 

muffled

behind glass

the untold stories

in my Grandma’s

eyes

 

Atlas Poetica ATPO 24 Spring Issue (2016)

New Bridges: The Portland Haiku Group Anthology 

 

REVISION: 

 

muffled 

behind glass

the untold stories

in grandma's

eyes

 

Distant Sirens: Tanka 

​

​

***

 

dinner

with my father

and his new Chinese wife

I eat

a little slower

 

Atlas Poetica ATPO 24 Spring Issue (2016)

 

REVISION: 

 

dinner 

with my father

and his new Chinese wife

the sudden sound 

of rain  

 

Distant Sirens: Tanka

 

​

***

 

the missing piece

of a Mountain puzzle

another mystery

I don’t want

to solve

 

Atlas Poetica ATPO 24 Spring Issue (2016)

Distant Sirens: Tanka

Mare Liberum: Haiku & Tanka

 

​

***

 

I walk

with grandma

without words

the early sound

of falling leaves

​

Atlas Poetica ATPO 24 Spring Issue (2016)

Distant Sirens: Tanka

​

​

***

​

cry if you must

the rain is falling with you — 

hearing the sound of her laughter

the sun lifts the sea

into colored clouds

 

Atlas Poetica, ATPO 27 (2017)

Distant Sirens: Tanka

Mare Liberum: Haiku & Tanka

Desert Rain (publication date TBD)

​

​

***

​

cracked pillars

no longer stand

between us…

admitting all the times

I’ve been wrong

 

Ribbons

Mare Liberum: Haiku & Tanka 

​

​

***

 

avoiding the calm

his restless thoughts

never waiting…

I glimpse the turbulent water

beneath the bridge

 

Distant Sirens: Tanka 

​

​

***

 

his endless desires

how many of them

are fulfilled?

another cloud evaporates

into sunlight

 

Distant Sirens: Tanka 

​

​

***

​

before I leave

I wrap you in a warm blanket

with my bare hands and whisper:

let go of all desire

sleep without fear this night

 

Atlas Poetica, ATPO 27 (2017)

New Bridges: The Portland Haiku Group Anthology

Distant Sirens: Tanka

Mare Liberum: Haiku & Tanka

 

​

​