Tom Clausen Home
Assorted Haiku
Home | Home page | Bio for Tom | Haiku & Senryu -definitions/ thoughts | Haiku Chapbooks ( 1) Autumn Wind in the Cracks (1994) | (2) Unraked Leaves ( 1995) | (3) Standing Here ( 1998) | Homework (2000) Snapshot Press, UK | being there (2005) Swamp Press | Tanka chapbooks (1) A Work of Love (1997) Tiny Poems Press | Growing Late- (2006) Snapshot Press | A Haiku Way of Life | Assorted Haiku | Assorted Senryu | Assorted Tanka | Haibun | Favorite Links | Dim Sum -Tom | Robert T. Clausen | Favorite Haiku | Favorite Senryu | Favorite Tanka | Zen Entries | Memorable Quotes | Dalai Lama | Death Poems | Cat Poems | Dog Poems | Train Poems | Longer poems | Song Lyrics | Rt. 9 Haiku Group | Rt. 9 Haiku Group-Tom 3-23-06 | Haiku Circle (6-02-07) | 4-21-09 Mann Library reading | My email address: tpc2@cornell.edu

 
100 Haiku from Tom ...
 
 
 
 
 

 
 
another day
avoiding it
  the sun 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
summer night-
in a pile of rubble
the house's scent
 
 
 
 
 
 
between poems
at the microphone
the wind...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
another reminder
the blossoming tree
with thorns

 
 
 
 
 
 
sun on new snow-
a chickadee
repeats its name!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in an opening
just right
Orion's Belt
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 the way
the waterfall flows
into being frozen
 
 
 
 
 
 
 one generation
  pushes another
      in a swing
 
 
 
 
 
 
autumn again-
after everything
I pour her tea
 
 
 
 
 
 
each time
out to the U-haul
holding hands
 
 
 
 
 
 
another day
a few birds fly
across the sunset
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
outside the meeting
  back and forth
   the sprinkler
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
stuck inside
the dog gets up
and turns around
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
autumn nightfall
dropping my son off
for something else
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
where I sit
on my usual bench
remains of a nut
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
on the trail again...
walking deeper
into myself
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
after our visit
in quiet, the things
I forgot to say...
 
 
 
 
 
 
Halloween-
to a simple question
my life story
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
first snow gone-
this steady need
to practice
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I choose one-
a roomful of chairs
without people
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
crickets...
my eyes closed
to the day
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lunar eclipse-
back inside something I did
or didn't do
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
letting her
walk all over me
ladybug
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
back home
these trees I knew
in all their seasons
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
another full moon
my checkbook
still unbalanced
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
snow filling
our tracks into the woods
by heart
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
undefended:
in the cold rain
their snow fort
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
long wait alone
in the parking lot...
a dog in the next car
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
keeping quiet
the day's last light
on new grass
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
she wanders away...
her snail disembarks
the matchbox truck
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
alone
in the middle of a crowd
someone I knew
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
always takes his time
the custodian watches
the floor dry
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
peepers
my daughter whispers
something she knows
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
reading her letter-
suddenly aware of the look
on my face
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
from room to room
on the Clue board
a tiny spider
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
by the ocean...
again filled
with emptiness
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
reading into it
as much as i can
my life
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a few floors down
in another building
someone else looks out
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
so much we have...
yet between us too
an emptiness
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a few snow flakes
entering the woods
silence
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
cold dusk
my thoughts pass through
a crow flying by
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
boardwalk-
we go to one end
then the other
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the plant in the window
has gone everywhere
it can
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring frost-
the park cannon aimed
at the church
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the empty room
two quiet types
father and son
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
despite
the development
deer path
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a flat tire
near my father's grave
I stop to visit
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in love
bicycling
into the snowstorm
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the spread of stars
wind moves the snow
from where it fell
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
between bites
from the apple
he stares...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lingering in bed...
the ceiling has no
answers
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
flea market-
the Rubik's cube
already solved
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
snow fall-
my daughter asks where
we are going...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
left and right
he follows the way
of his kicked stone
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
winter stars-
our meeting
un-arranged
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
wondering ...
will the squirrel find
half of what it buried?
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
most of the rain
not falling
on me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
mower won't start
busy as a bee
a bee
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
straight out
of a dream
another day
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
steady rain
a pickle
in the parking lot
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the dates
on the coins
I give up...
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring
removing the neighbors
from view
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the chainlink fence
runs into
high water
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the crow
in me
gets a response
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the habit of looking
where it used to be
- the mirror
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
garden walk-
she checks herself
in the pond
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
taking off my clothes
my heart
closer...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
alone in the waiting room
checking the plant
for reality
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
droning plane fades out...
how little difference it makes
what age I am
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my child asks
what keeps the moon up?
you do, I reply
 
 
 
 
 
 
walking
through more
- my life
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
being there
in the woods
a tree falls
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
cross country runner
no one ahead
or behind
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
each
of the rain drops
that touch her...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
mountaintop:
giving back
each breath
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
free spirits
a year later
they return
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the way
rain takes
the mountain
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
for my son:
lifting a stone
to see
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
watering their plants
seeing their house
without them
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
rehearsing
the reading
to no one
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the clouds
calligraphy
reads...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
day break-
from the bread truck's roof
frost swirls
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
dreary day...
jack o'lantern collapsed
on it's grin
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
crane
on the horizon
holds a cloud
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
at the cliff edge
my whole life
behind me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
closed-
deep inside
a light
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
under the manhole
the night gives
a gurgle
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
after the thriller
the wideness
of bed
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
river bank swallows-
my beer label
peels easily
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lying in the leaves-
the sun shares the shape
of her corduroys
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the hypnotist
describes her technique...
sound of the stream
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
swallows sweep
through the cemetery
- fresh grave
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
stiff wind-
shadows of things
stretch on the street
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
passing me by
in the stillness
a snowmobile
 
 
 
 
 
 
on the street
a person really happy
about something
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    no one there
the bus driver
opens the door
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
back and forth
the elephant
weighs a foot
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
sunrise-
yesterday's footprints
in the snow
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
on a rise
between headstones
a snowman
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the custodian
  brings up
    karma

 
 
 
 
 
 
in a day dream...
I almost
walk into her


 
 
 
 
end of its first day:
the shiny garbage can
all beat up
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
morning light-
the strangers have become
familiar
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
high up
against a big cloud
specks of birds
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
first day-
a student turns the map
every which way
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
daylight savings-
I leave my calendar
a month behind
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the way
of a dream
the turtle without a shell
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
overnight snow-
to help the sun
I shovel some
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
glint from a car
a stray thought
of Camelot
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
time called
wrappers rush by
home plate
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
old wagon
the last load
still there
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
end of the trail
the world
without humans
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 the back road...
one turn after another
more outrageous reds








cross currents of snow-
my wife tells me
something else








on the trail...
their talk turns
to home








the place our dog
once encountered a dog
he always barks








as far
   as the street lights go
                 the sidewalk








snowy wind
in the woods...
only the trees talking
 

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