Voted most likely
To fall just short of his goal
at Haiku High 

Still he showed promise
Harvard Haiku took a chance
It got worse

Studied in Japan
Zen Monastery Master
still worse

The harder he tried
The more it all receded
Still

He would not give up
Wanting more becoming less

Psychotherapy
Mother always distant

Father’s unkind cuts
Still now losing blood

Binding now his wounds
Too late he fears

Smaller still his world
Circling

He puts down his pen
Walks

Sun sets on the wood

He is silent

Wind in leaves

Alone

then

A river ran here
Silent dark firs surround us
Still you can hear it

Throughout November I am writing a poem every day as part of an effort to raise funds for The Center For New Americans. If you like the poems (or even if you don’t) and would like to support this fantastic organization, please follow this link. Thanks.