Mare Liberum
Solo & Collaborative Poetry with Jacob D. Salzer
Published Work (Tanka)
The following is a selection of my tanka published in books & journals.
All tanka are copyright © by Jacob D. Salzer
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
***
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
***
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
***
waves
ceaselessly crash
against the shore
I walk beside you
without a sound
Atlas Poetica, ATPO 30, Winter 2017
Distant Sirens: Tanka
New Bridges: The Portland Haiku Group Anthology
***
grandma
with ALS…
between breaths
a silence
we do not notice
Distant Sirens: Tanka
***
walking alone
why do I keep looking
at the moon?
the cold night fills
with unheard voices
Distant Sirens: Tanka
New Bridges: The Portland Haiku Group Anthology
***
foggy windows . . .
waves crash
against the shore
between each small breath
we take
Distant Sirens: Tanka
Desert Rain: Haiku Nook Anthology (publication date TBD)
***
the weight
of father’s empty luggage
in my old bedroom
receipts from China drift
in the wind
Atlas Poetica ATPO 30, Winter 2017
New Bridges: The Portland Haiku Group
Distant Sirens: Tanka
***
childhood
Lego castles
we could
only build
so high
Distant Sirens: Tanka
***
mist
through the cemetery
in father’s backyard
another tree
missing
Distant Sirens: Tanka