miles away from
the earthquake and tsunami*
even the barn roof
seems to be listing
towards the unknown


*Refers to the devastating 8.8 earthquake in Chile and the subsequent tsunami warnings that were issued on Feb 27th.  For the latest updates and/or to contribute to the relief effort, I've included a link to the American Red Cross.  (Click on the text in line 2 of the tanka.)


Periodically, I check the links to see that each one is still accessible and accurate.  Since I posted this item, other disaster areas in the US are now listed on the first page.  These include the severe flooding in New Jersey and the Red River in North Dakota and Minnesota.

everything
I had to do
cleared from the calendar
circling the clouds
the flight of a red-tailed hawk

stalking deer along
the tanglevine trail
the man in the yellow jacket
sends a cell phone picture
to his girlfriend

past a remnant
of old route 66
the empty hour glass
of the chrysler
water tower

This tanka is for my nephew, Logan, who attends the Deer Creek Middle School. 

in a valley
protected from the wind
a bluebird's insistence
that today
is the first day of spring

with their elbows
bent like coat hangers
the dancing couple
hold each other up
through another set

everyone's asleep
in the shoebox town
except for the cut-out moon
and a child's glittering
of stars

so many figures
shaped like hands
the bird spirits
woven into
a navajo rug

oil paintings

of whaling ships

stacked in the doorway

of a diner

where could they be

going from here

because of the hour
and the phone's persistent ring
I crawl out of my sleep
with each foot
in the wrong shoe

long past
ash wednesday
the poinsettia still
offering its gift
of red leaves

The Soulard Mardi Gras is the biggest celebration of its kind outside of New Orleans.


distancing myself
from the mardi gras
I stumble upon
a parade of rocks
going through a nearby glade

early sunset
a pair of spindly maples
trying to grow
their way out
of the canyon

The link to this story is no longer available. Thankfully, this scheme to save money was never implemented.

fire-department-
for-hire proposal
"Now that your house burned down,
ma'am, what address
can we send the bill to?"

this morning
the steam
of fresh coffee
keeps me from drifting
into "what if's"

as though they've
never done this before
the careful plod
of pelicans before
they reach the water

museum display
of mozarkite
I'd rather
be with the stones
crossing the river

the wind taking
my hat away
by now I'm certain
the best reply
is silence

scores of robins
turning over dead leaves
as if they could
brush aside each death
and find spring

like a forest without
a decipherable path
the more I delve into
the endless loops
          of my handwriting
          the more lost I become

cherishing
what little blue sky there is
this day
between snowstorms
I keep to myself

freedom of speech
in america
each year
the channels become
narrower

brakes and accelerators
and corporate think tanks
which one
is most responsible
for lost lives

in the unwritten notes
of improvisation
the river must flood
to break free
of its banks

democrat
or republican
the treasure chest
for war
is always open

galaxies moving
away from each other
I doubt
they will miss
their old neighborhoods

a north wind
running short of breath
the meandering grapevines
           encircled
          by solitude

our troubles
begin with
a math problem
I don't understand
what he doesn't understand

The challenge of this journal is to write 365 tanka in 365 days. Originally, I planned to wait until my birthday to begin the experiment.



What made me decide to start sooner stems from one of my father's favorite sayings, "Do it now." Unlike me, he was not a procrastinator. I'm dedicating this journal to him.


In memory of Anthony Heiker (1910-2000).