Simply Haiku: A Quarterly Journal of Japanese Short Form Poetry
Contents Archives About Simply Haiku Submissions Search
Spring 2006, vol 4 no 1


Andrew Riutta

become months
become years . . .
in moonlight
my beer stays cold


faint scent
of chimney smoke---
just barely
I keep myself together
through another year


the leaves in piles,
I turn away from
a long year . . .
this rickety heart
beating on the door


drunks stumble in and out of her
like cartoon characters---
wet with fallen leaves
this dark road home


peeking into
this wormhole in my apple
I see a poet
thirty years from now
still dressed like a plumber


a perfect fit,
this gun in my hands---
on a few leaves
already fallen
moonlight glistens


a small boulder
broken perfectly in half---
hunched low
in the autumn breeze
I return to myself


at my age
falling in love
with the person
she thought I was---
autumn graveyard


I bought myself a new hat
with ear flaps . . .
today, myriad thoughts
muffle the falling snow


one lone cricket
louder than all the others---
not one of us
has ever found the words
to comfort the living


Andrew Riutta Andrew Riutta lives in Michigan and is a relatively new, prolific tanka poet. His poetry is notable for its realism and lyric simplicity, beauty and directness of expression. Clearly set in the contemporary world of the midwestern United States, Riutta's tanka also reflect the restraint and poise of Japanese tanka and early waka songs of old Japan. --Michael McClintock