loud clatter
of plates and voices -
this scarred breakfast table -
a slender wrist

What barriers are there between within me and without me?
between us and me?
between awake and asleep?
between breathing and not?

No one leaves.
No one returns.

Just because you are experiencing page 29 of your life doesn't mean the rest of the book does not exist. Page 15 and page 110 are also existing as are your great-great-great-great grandfather and your great-great-great granddaughter and William Shakespeare.

Perhaps to cultivate consciousness is to cultivate awareness of the being of all moments.

guitar notes -
like water drops clinging to night grasses -
brilliant old moon

Haiku is a path to expansion through confinement.

Restricted to 17 syllables, it's the building of a little window to offer a big view. Using precise observations, it's a teaspoon of water to express the sea.

Sometimes, we put aside form to explore the expansion. (In other words, looks like this isn't going to be a haiku-only blog.)

disorderly thoughts
and stumbling words
yield to the carol of sparrows...

bay leaves,
empty wine glass,
night fragrance,
open window,
helicopter