Frogpond 34.3 • Autumn 2011 (pdf) - Haiku Society of America

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Where The Heart Is by Jennifer Met, Moscow, Idaho 4 AM, Saturday. I snap awake ready to pound the dorm room wall, a rich bass line booming, reverberating, and fi lling my sleep-addled head with too much noise. Then I hear the trickle of rain down the aluminum gutters and remember that I am not sharing walls anymore. I am in my own house, in a small, sleepy town, near the middle of nowhere. The sound must be summer raindrops, I think, dripping on a pail. And still… and still… it could be someone else’s melody. I lie for a good twenty minutes trying to decide, until I drift asleep between the beats. an unseen grackle… what strange radar is this? Musical Allsorts by Susan Constable, Nanoose Bay, British Columbia In single fi le, the a capella choir enters the chancel. Wearing black pants and colourful tops, they stand in a semi-circle beneath a stained glass window. The conductor nods her head. Fourteen people open their black binders and wait for her to give them their notes. I sink into Deep River, almost melt with a warm tenor solo in The Turtle Dove. When my attention wanders during a 16th century Latin dirge, I check my watch. Soon, however, my foot is tapping to the beat of Wimoweh. sunlight glows through cranberry juice – Restless Farewell . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 58 Haiku Society of America
Release Me by Wende Skidmore DuFlon, La Antigua, Guatemala The rainy season has been heavy and is slow leaving this year. The steady patter still pounds in my ears and in my head—water saturates treeless mountainsides and mud slides down onto highways covering public buses laden with people, pigs and chickens and market goods in woven baskets. Radios report a high death toll and I feel my body clench imagining tomorrow’s commute with our children to the City along edges of the disappearing highway: Perhaps all will go well if I blast the music and we sing together as we pass the precipice?! Shall I try? . . . green parakeets chattering overhead. . . soft sunbeams was that river by Susan Diridoni, San Francisco, California the air that grew poisonous, contaminated, dropping like lead, was NOT that river, was that tsunami, even when the fl ames lit up the oily sea, was that deadly meters-high fl ow/plow tossing the huge fi shing ships like bathtub ducks, was that river of everyday comforts, dolls, futons, baseball bats, sewing kits, bonsai trees tended over three generations, mashing into blackened sludge, raku-black beetle-black, was that river ripping child with mother tossed past cemeteries & natural life spans, childhood sweetheart, was that river his weeping outside on the pavement, inside the ripped away bodies of love’s making, cold, still wearing a face, was that river, of our joy, skin no more kissed, that river was thunderless heavenly river remote haven . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Frogpond 34:3 59
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frogpond The Journal of the Haiku S
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Submissions Policy 1. Submissions f
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folded inside a paper crane— tsun
Page 7 and 8: tree stumps father never needed poe
Page 9 and 10: indian summer— ghee pools in the
Page 11 and 12: humpty-dumpty this fractured life o
Page 13 and 14: Finally looking at a peony— speec
Page 15 and 16: march morning the holocaust of drea
Page 17 and 18: middle of the night until I find it
Page 19 and 20: after the argument separating light
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Page 25 and 26: Breezes of the night left behind, t
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Page 29 and 30: wild rhubarb that sudden yearning f
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Page 35 and 36: f(r)oghorn alon e wh at‘s a wi sh
Page 37 and 38: Over the ringing in my ears, an edg
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Page 41 and 42: Juxtaposing the religious significa
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Page 45 and 46: After its first and only submission
Page 47 and 48: shot Press, 2006). “Yom Kippur,
Page 49 and 50: Haiku Sequence Scent of the Sea by
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Page 53 and 54: Touchdown by Diana Webb, Leatherhea
Page 55 and 56: At Red Willow Canyon by Mark F. Har
Page 57: Question and Answer by Cara Holman,
Page 61 and 62: Pick-Your-Own by Diane Mayr, Salem,
Page 63 and 64: Essays At the Heart of The Heart of
Page 65 and 66: Do you feel that the current versio
Page 67 and 68: eing bound by it, how to use haiku
Page 69 and 70: perceived. Through this transparent
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Page 75 and 76: A three-line haiku often segments t
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Page 81 and 82: The Lost Weekend: An editor’s bri
Page 83 and 84: Reviewed Nigel Jenkins, Ken Jones,
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Page 87 and 88: acknowledgments and introduction, a
Page 89 and 90: Notes 1. Stryk, Lucien and Takashi
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Page 93 and 94: Richard Zimler. Love’s Voice, 72
Page 95 and 96: Ito Isao (trans.& ed.). 100 Selecte
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Significance & Meaning Is the writi
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has been removed and the reader’s
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of a one-line haiku: another exampl
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Judged by Merrill Ann Gonzales, Day
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Comments by Merrill Ann Gonzales an
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HSA Patrons Friends (Gifts Of More
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Hryciuk, Marshall, 102-103 Hugget,
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HSA Officers & Regional Coordinator
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Frogpond 34.3 • Autumn 2011 (pdf) - Haiku Society of America

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