issue10

In celebration of the new year, Haiku Sun is proud to feature the Asian inspired poetry of Ed Markowski. Regular readers will be familiar with Ed's work. We can think of no better way to ring in 2004 than with an issue solely dedicated to this talented poet/ haijin and his work. His ability to "push the envelope" of conventional Asian form while staying true to its essence is what Haiku Sun is all about! Enjoy Ed's haiku, senryu, tanka, haibun and, as always, a few surprises.

We also want to thank the readers, artists and fine poets who have chosen to share their work with us in our fledgling year. May 2004 bring all of you happiness, harmony and good health,

Cheevers (haibun)

It's raining. At 1300 hours, I'm summoned into the commanding

officer's tent. He motions for me to sit down, and informs me

that I've been assigned to transport Cheevers from Phu Bai to

the military prison in Danang, where tomorrow he will begin

serving his prison term.

He lights a cigarette, slides me a 45 caliber pistol, and says

with a grin, "City niggers gotta be taught a lesson about

cheating white officers." It's raining. It's raining as hard as it

rained last year when Cheevers and I arrived in country together.

monsoon

our first letters

from home

The m.p. releases Cheevers into my custody. On the walk to

my jeep, he extends his thick scarred arms. "Well sarge?"

he asks.

"Well I'm not going to cuff you. The chopper doesn't leave

for three hours. When we get off base I'm going to the

Parisian. Go and do what you gotta do. I'll be at the hotel bar."

When we reach the Parisian Hotel, Cheevers blends into a

mosaic of street people. I pass the time drinking alone. My

combat duty ended a month ago. I'll be home in two weeks.

I've survived up to this point for no good reason, but I know

better than to take anything for granted.

after the ambush

rice

gathering

Three hours pass, and I'll be damned. Here comes Cheevers

weaving his way through a pickett of hookers. There's an

opium glow bouncing from his slack face, and he tells me,

"I'm ready sarge. I'm ready to do my time for winning that

poker game."

The chopper ride is uneventful. Cheevers and I look down on

the passing countryside. Terraced rice paddies yield to a

vast naked forest. The far horizon is dulled by falling rain, but

both of us can see all to clearly what is occurring both on, and

below the ground.

In Danang, I tell Cheevers the same thing I told him in Phu Bai.

We split up. Two hours later, I walk into the bar at the Embassy

Hotel. I can't believe what I see......Cheevers and another brother

are sitting at an upright piano doing a smooth duet of My Girl.

When he sees me, he waves me over to the piano. "Thanks sarge,

thanks for the chances, but I'm ready, I'm ready to do my time."

I think of the time Cheevers and I spent on that hill. I think of the

heat, and I think of the dead. I think of how day became night,

and how night became day. I shake Cheevers hand, and we

leave it at that.

after the rifle flash...

see the world

monochrome

good friday...

Views expressed by the poets/artists are not necessarily those of Haiku Sun or its editors.