I cry more easily these days—at long sunsets and gospel songs. It's all this death, riding the slow coattails of a lingering spring. At every street corner, with every wind-quake, I feel a thin silence creeping through my bones.
I startle more easily these days—when a book falls from a newly mounted shelf, or the car's wake sends shivers through the midnight parkade. When a lone tank rumbles like thrown tombstones down my quiet Edmonton street.
evening light
the white crosses
of night flowers
Patrick M. Pilarski lives in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada with his oolong tea and far too many tea pots. His haiku, haibun, and related work have appeared or are forthcoming in a number of journals, recently including Modern Haiku, Frogpond, contemporary haibun online, Simply Haiku, Modern English Tanka, Wisteria, White Lotus, Haibun Today, Other Voices, The Antigonish Review, and has been broadcast on CBC Radio One. He recently released his first chapbook of haiku and haibun, Five Weeks, and is the co-editor of the print and online haiku journal DailyHaiku.
Patrick M. Pilarski lives in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada with his oolong tea and far too many tea pots. His haiku, haibun, and related work have appeared or are forthcoming in a number of journals, recently including Modern Haiku, Frogpond, contemporary haibun online, Simply Haiku, Modern English Tanka, Wisteria, White Lotus, Haibun Today, Other Voices, The Antigonish Review, and has been broadcast on CBC Radio One. He recently released his first chapbook of haiku and haibun, Five Weeks, and is the co-editor of the print and online haiku journal DailyHaiku.