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Beginning with a mechanical glitching rhythm and looping synth it features softly sighing wordless vocals, a melancholic edge of memory coda. Accordion and glockenspiel dance prettily around when, without fanfare, a deep bass wobble rolls up beneath a gentle melodica line. Once again their poise and restraint helps them carry it off.

There Is No Elsewhere is an absolute delight, elegant and experimental but wrapped in a warm, unfailing melodic sense and easily their best yet. Regular visitor? Please consider a small subscription to help us keep the site running. Click here for more details.

The Dust is Golden: haiku by Jackie Hardy from Iron Press

More Info. Haiku Salut on the web: Website Bandcamp. If you liked that, you might like these Winter rain -- The field stubble Has blackened. Crossing long fields, frozen in its saddle, my shadow creeps by Awakened at midnight by the sound of the water jar cracking from the ice Water-drawing rites, icy sound of monks' getas echo long and cold On the cow shed A hard winter rain; Cock crowing.

The winter leeks Have been washed white -- How cold it is! Winter downpour - even the monkey needs a raincoat. Winter solitude-- in a world of one color the sound of wind. This first fallen snow is barely enough to bend the jonquil leaves The first snow the leaves of the daffodil bending together The first snow, Just enough to bend The leaves of the daffodils. Tethered horse; snow in both stirrups.

First snow Falling On the half-finished bridge. On the polished surface Of the divine glass, Chaste with flowers of snow. The crescent lights The misty ground. Buckwheat flowers. Butterfly - Wings curve into White poppy. Heard, not seen, the camellia poured rainwater when it leaned Misty rain; Today is a happy day, Although Mt.

Fuji is unseen. Even a wild boar With all other things Blew in this storm. The wind from Mt.

battle haiku by mumbles and the dust

Fuji I put it on the fan. Here, the souvenir from Edo. Tremble, oh my gravemound, in time my cries will be only this autumn wind shaking the grave my weeping voice autumn wind Sleep on horseback, The far moon in a continuing dream, Steam of roasting tea. Black Cloudbank broken Scatters in the night Now see Moon-lighted mountains! Husking rice, a child squints up to view the moon. All the fields hands enjoy a noontime nap after the harvest moon Whore and monk, we sleep under one roof together, moon in a field of clover Now I see her face, the old woman, abandoned, the moon her only companion A cuckoo cries, and through a thicket of bamboo the late moon shines This bright harvest moon keeps me walking all night long around the little pond the moon: I wandered around the pond all night long the setting moon the thing that remains four corners of his desk In the moonlight a worm silently drills through a chestnut All my friends viewing the moon — an ugly bunch Among moon gazers at the ancient temple grounds not one beautiful face viewing the moon no one at the party has such a beautiful face The moon is the guide, Come this way to my house, So says the host of a wayside inn.

The voices of plovers Invite me to stare into the darkness Of the Starlit Promontory. Dark night - Plover crying For its nest. Sparrow, spare The horsefly Dallying in flowers. Sparrows in eves Mice in ceiling - Celestial music. Baby mice in their nest squeak in response to the young sparrows Where cuckoo Vanishes - An island.

Do the tea-pickers also, hidden in the bushes, hear the hototogishu? Skylark on moor -- Sweet song Of non-attachment. Over skylark's song Noh cry Of Pheasant resting higher than a lark in the sky a mountain pass Even these long days are not nearly long enough for the skylarks to sing By a singular stroke Of luck, I saw a solitary hawk circling Above the promontory of Irago.

O bush warblers! Firefly viewing - Drunken steersman, Drunken boat. The dragonfly Can't quite land On that blade of grass. Dying cricket, how he sings out his life!

5 facts about the dust bowl

Gray hairs being plucked, and from below my pillow a cricket singing Ungraciously, under a great soldier's empty helmet, a cricket sings how piteous! Stinking into the stones, the locusts' trill. Even that old horse is something to see this snow-covered morning What luck! The southern valley Make snow fragrant.

Light the fire! I'll bring inside a lovely bright ball of snow to Kyoto still half the sky to go— snowy clouds Only half the way I came To the ancient capital, And above my head Clouds heavy with snow. Crossing half the sky, on my way to the capital, big clouds promise snow Not even a hat -- and cold rain falling on me? Think of that! A cold rain starting And no hat -- So? How very noble! One who finds no satori in the lightning-flash Shake, oh grave! The autumn wind Is the voice of my wailing. Ill on a journey, all about the dreary fields fly my broken dreams.

This comment has been minimized. Sign in to view. Copy link Quote reply. Thank your words How they act Coders need them As quick as it came. Descends through the air. A quiet sunset. Few have grasped. It leaves too soon. A life well lived. Sign up for free to join this conversation on GitHub. Already have an account? Sign in to comment. You signed in with another tab or window. Reload to refresh your session. You signed out in another tab or window.

Scarecrow in the hillock. How unaware!

'Dust To Dust' Haiku - Poem by Chenou Liu

Passing through the world. Sogi's rain shelter. In the distance over Sado. From love and barley.

How wild the sea is,. Morning and evening. Someone waits at Matsushima! Wrapping dumplings in. On Buddha's birthday. On Buddha's deathday,. In the droplets of dew. With dewdrops dripping,. I wish somehow I could wash. Won't you come and see. Just one leaf. Buddha enters nirvana. The pine tree of Shiogoshi.