A Quarterly Journal of Contemporary English Language Haibun
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Contents Page: March, 2010, vol 6 no 1


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Genie Nakano


My mother tells me of the night I was conceived. Night blooming Jasmine was penetrating the air. The scent floated into her window and over took her senses. She could control herself no longer. As she sat next to the shy young man who was to be my father, the soft bed enveloped them. The powerful scent of flowers entered their pores–and transformed into rivulets of fragrant sweat.

the halo around
a blue moon
flowering jasmine


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