haibun
A Quarterly Journal of Contemporary English Language Haibun
| Current Issue | Contents Page - This Issue | Editorial Staff | About This Journal |
| Submissions | Acceptance Criteria | Haibun Definitions | Articles | Archives | Search |

September 2005, vol 1 no 2

[return to author's index]

Tad Wojnicki

Driving Carmel Valley Road

I slash sunset in halves. Slurpy sunset, all juice and sweets. Who cares? Anybody looking? Nobody is. Nobody cares.

I go ahead, slashing the fruit right down the red flesh and seeds of shame. Slopes, seeds, sunflower stalks slip past. "The shrink himself is a certified fruit," I hear, but I don't care. I go on driving, splitting the halves--one sickeningly sweet, the other bitter as hell. Look, the day is beyond ripe, I howl. Gotta cherish the moment. Still, no one gives a damn.

Do what you want, look or don't look. I'm going right ahead, soaking up the sweets.

tiny pain
when it hits me --
a dead leaf

 

[return to author's index]