Senryu from Fig Newtons: Senryu to Go

The following are thirty-one senryu from Fig Newtons: Senryu to Go (Foster City, California: Press Here, 1993), which I edited and published with my press. The book won an honorable mention in the 1994 Merit Book Awards sponsored by the Haiku Society of America (for books published in 1993). You can also read the book’s introduction.                                           +              +



at his favourite deli

the bald man finds a hair

in his soup



after the verdict

the arsonist

lights up



mexican cantina—

the waiter says

bon appetite




under his eyes—

traveling salesman



bending for a dime

two businessmen

bump heads



traveling circus—

the contortionist

orders a pretzel



behind bars


          drunk with laughter



first day of summer

a postman delivers mail

in a safari hat



beside the pizza man

     the bus boy

          spins a washcloth



hazy summer afternoon—

the smog-check mechanic

puffs a cigar



her swollen head . . .

the astrologer

seeing stars



billboard lady

in a bikini—

three-car pileup



first confession

his parking meter




one shopping day before Christmas . . .

     a squirrel runs

          from tree to tree



grocery shopping—

pushing my cart faster

through feminine protection



express checkout

     the fat woman counts

          the thin man’s items



visiting mother—

again she finds

my first grey hair



the understudy

steps out from rehearsal

to view the eclipse



my face dripping . . .

the floppy-foot clown’s

plastic flower



golden gate park

teen with a boom box—

mime covers his ears



making a wish

on a falling star

no—a satellite



afternoon mail—

the stamp from Australia




kindergarten Christmas pageant—

     a wise man

          loses his beard



spring afternoon—

the twelve-year-old slam-dunks

from a ladder



after divorce

the plant she left

grows on me



nursing-home bingo—

the husband and wife

with matching mustaches




     the newlywed’s

          two dogs



moonless night—

her guard dog barks

at the new husband



first haiku

on my new computer—









under the umbrella

        stormy face