HAIBU(NA)KU 3, by Thomas Fink
This picture can stand by itself. We have no babies to medicate, so who holds the pain? I mostly think about me. He gave me the words, but I forgot what they were. You’re supposed to feed all your –isms that are missing, so can we track them down together? Though Cupid might cheer folks up, everyone should own what can never be confiscated.
throw it out.
HAIBU(NA)KU 4, by Thomas Fink.
Here’s to all the wonderful people in the world. May some of them survive—you especially, my charming brother, who are really my service man. Are we lucky to be lasting so long? ‘Cause (beyond those bluster-face acrobatics) this fellow’s a bit frail, too. You shouldn’t let much stuff leak out of your rectum. I wish I was more of a sister to you.
buy some neighbors.
Note: Eileen Tabios, inventor of the hay(na)ku in 2005, inaugurated the use of the haybun in 2008, a haibun involving any number of hay(na)ku as the poetry section following the paragraph(s) of unregulated length. With her blessing, I have devised a stricter offshoot, the haibu(na)ku, in which the paragraph must have an equal number of sentences as the hay(na)ku or chain of hay(na)ku has words.
SOMEONE COULD BE HOVERING, by Thomas Fink and Maya Diablo Mason
What happened here—so sunken-white?
Be careful where you leave footprints.
Federal bases will soon gain access.
Even winter doesn’t discard much.
She did not expect to produce damage.
Or are they mine?
I could have checked.
You appreciate the anonymity of motoring.
Not having soles to match souls.
I covered some, but they were remembered.
For the ultra cautious, is there a banquet to speak of?
HE MUST HAVE TORTURED PUPPIES, by Thomas Fink and Maya Diablo Mason.
His face is a threat.
Mouth idiocy offerings.
When verbal, pollutes.
Curly wildfire around