Because of its mostly half-assed nature, you might get the impression that the haiku commute project is primarily a product of ennui, and you'd be right. But this hasn't always been the case.
It was right around the one year anniversary of the sudden death of G that I began the project. The skies along the 101 corridor through Marin and Sonoma that time of year were clear and vast. Her death was, again, very much on my mind, during the day and also in my dreams. Many of my first generation haiku were dedicated to someone. These are for her in memory.
June 1, 2006
Me with shattered wings
and you--his first Icarus--
a clipped jay, lifted.
June 14, 2006
Maple seed spins from
the sky. Sister, I fed him
salt the day you died.
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