Sitting Quietly, Doing Nothing, Spring Comes, And

Felling A Tree And Gazing At The Cut End - Tonight's Moon

A Weathered Skeleton In Windy Fields Of Memory, Piercing Like A Knife.

Farewell, My Old Fan. / Having Scribbled On It, / What Could I Do But Tear It / At The End Of Summer?

The Haiku That Reveals Seventy To Eighty Percent Of Its Subject Is Good. Those That Reveal Fifty To Sixty Percent, We Never Tire Of.

Not To Think Of Yourself / As Someone Who Did Not Count -- / Festival Of The Souls.