Two poems published in Autumn Moon Haiku Journal 1.1 edited by Bruce Ross

nightfall −
an absence of stars
closes in

scent of rain . . .
an oak leaf rustles
out of time

--- Hansha Teki, New Zealand


Poems published in issues 12 and 14 of Bones - journal for the short verse
Editor: J. S. H. Bjerg


The following displayed poems first appeared in Otata 13, Otata 17, and Otata 24. 
Otata was edited by John Martone monthly from January 2016 until it went into hiatus in December 2019
Individual issues may be downloaded as PDF publications from the Otata blog website.


Editor's Choice Haiku for Cattails April 2017

Cattails 2017 1

 Haibun Today edited by Ray Rasmussen

Haibun Today 11 4

Published in Hedgerow #121 edited by Caroline Skanne


moon glimpses— 
death seems not so far 
out of reach 

dust blows around me 
an ancient sea bed 

the mogul
is hitting
rock bottom

traceries of a mosque 
in the parhelion

Hansha Teki / Clayton Beach

A haibun published in Narrow Road edited by Paresh Tiwari

Published in issue 13 of NOON: journal of the short poem edited by Philip Rowland, Japan

noon 13

These pieces were published in issues 21 and 23 of Prune Juice

 Poems published in issues 9 & 10 of Sonic Boom edited by Shloka Shakar.
Sonic Boom is a literary & arts journal that seeks both solicited and unsolicited poetry, prose, and visual art submissions tri-annually. It hopes
to integrate multifarious genres of literature and artwork including Japanese short-forms of poetry, avant-garde, conceptual, and postmodern works of culture and art.

a snail practices
our absence


pine lesson
it is what
it is not


I am now
in your third person
also present



Why was he looking up at the night sky?

In the frost-crisped night of central Taranaki, when light was evanescent at best, he foot-crunched through a paddock to exteriorise the dark that had been suffusing him.

What filled the night sky at that moment?

Just stars. So cold was the air that the darkness was clear and starlight was breath-held in its stillness. The Southern Cross was risen there. Night-dew christened his beard.

Was he seen?

None knew of his presence there let alone the nature or length of his existence.

What could he see?

Only a chill arc of stars, a rainbow of night, creating its own light out of nothing.

Why the tear?

Because he could see as he is seen.

Did this precipitate any change?

He was strengthened to endure all that is still to come.

Will he depict that night in words for others to see?

He will learn how to do without words.

at the end
the beginning
of the end




last post

                                    and the you

                                                we knew

chill winds sound

                                    at once

                                        once more

the bugle

                                    with your





whisper it

                                    winter hush

when silence is an echo

                                    long shadows offer up

of itself

                                    mute evidence




wiping out

                                    blank slate

the last traces

                                    I redraw

of breath

                                    a butterfly's path


Right Hand Pointing Issue 107: low sky
winter haiku 2017
edited by Eric Burke