HAIBUN: Ozone

 
Ozone
      —somewhere near Weatherford, Texas–1951
 
        dry lightning
        my arm hairs
        stand on end
 
Rows of folding chairs are lined up in the sawdust as we enter the dimly lit tent. Someone has parked a battered pump organ to the right of the microphone stand.
 
I notice all the lean men in western boots, clutching Stetsons in one hand, tattered hymnals in the other. Their women wear flour-sack ginghams with a crescent of damp under each arm.
 
Now, the leather-faced preacher strides in and loosens his bolo tie. He raises his arms with a shrill HOWehLOOya—then, with a flourish, opens his Bible and gets right down to business.
 
A frizz-headed woman moans amen. My father slowly shakes his head, clasps my shoulder with his soft Lutheran hand and gives me a little squeeze. The organ kicks in.
 
Local folks sway with the music. An older guy waves his blue bandana and babbles some kind of gibberish. The wife beside him passes out. Tears of fear roll down my cheeks.
 
Quietly, Daddy picks me up and walks us out into the steamy twilight. The air behind us throbs with hymn as we make a beeline for our car parked in a pasture thick with cow pies.
 
I recall how tenderly he spreads his handkerchief over the hot passenger seat; how he cranks the ignition, slams the Studebaker into reverse, raising a dusty rooster tail as we light out for the horizon.
 
        between drizzle
        and downpour—roof gutters
        speaking in tongues

Youmans, Rich (ed), Contemporary Haibun, Vol 19. Red Moon Press, 2024

Honorable Mention: San Francisco International Haibun Contest 2023

___________ 
Commentary (Judges: Stephen Henry Gill, Shalini Pattabiraman)
 
Reading something good is like taking your mind to the gym; it forces you to work, take notice, solve puzzles, shift between moods, resolve problems. “Ozone” achieves that effectively from the very beginning with a title that is intriguing while the opening haiku immediately establishes an urgency and tension that the prose then builds to a climax. The tone and mood largely describe a religious ritual of some kind, where a child, seeking refuge with her father during a storm, is filled with fear at the strangeness of this experience. The mood then effectively shifts into tenderness of emotion when 'he spreads his handkerchief over the hot passenger seat' as the duo then escape into a 'cricket-thick horizon'. I loved the intricate worldbuilding. Dee puts the reader into the tent, where alongside the child we too take notice of 'women' who 'wear flour-sack ginghams with a crescent of damp under each arm'. Imagery in the haibun is stunning. The prose continues the religious intensity and strangeness of the experience into the haiku, creating something cinematic. (SP)

Heron's Nest Award

What can be said about a poem of three words. When one of them is not even quite a word? When one of them is "this?"

At my first gathering of haiku poets, I witnessed a spirited debate about whether "the" or "a" was the best word for a certain spot in the poem being workshopped. So, no worries. There is always something to be said.

There are active haiku readers and passive. If we write to a passive reader, we are tempted to tell more. But a poem as short as this one almost requires that the reader be another poet.

Isn't it ironic that such a short poem might be easily misunderstood? Take "moonlight."

It means the lights of the moon, of course, but it also means to work a second job. And the "cricket" in "cricketlessness" can be the familiar (to some) chirping insect. But it can, in certain settings, be just as plausibly a beloved sport. A cricket is also a low wooden stepstool. Even "this" can, depending on context, function as an adjective, a definite article, a noun or even an adverb.

The fact that these words are presented as a haiku gives us certain clues because there are certain expectations of haiku. Not rules, mind you, but base understandings, which can be starting points for a "haiku reading" of the words.

One such expectation is that the moon and its light are, at least in a first reading, literal--the moon in the sky and the light it reflects upon the earth. More than this, haiku convention suggests that this moonlight is occurring during the autumn. Indeed, "moon" and "moonlight" are the key indicators of autumn in haiku.

The cricket, while it could be the game or even the stepstool, is almost always the insect in haiku. And, in particular, the songs of such creatures. Cricket is an autumn kigo, so this three-word poem may be considered doubly anchored in autumn. However, it is anchored by a presence (moonlight) and an absence (cricketlessness).

A further base expectation of haiku is that there are two parts, separated by a syntactical gap. The gap in this very short poem occurs after the first word.

So, what is an active haiku reader likely to experience in these three words and the gap within them? Well, even with all the additional information provided by our base expectations of haiku, there are still many possibilities. I will not attempt an exhaustive catalog of them. Indeed, I could not. I will give you my initial reading; emphasizing that this is no more authoritative than yours or anyone else's. Active haiku readers will all bring something of themselves to the poem.

Moonlight, for me, is quiet and peaceful. Crickets, where they are present, would be lively and assertive; their calls likely to override any other sounds. But there are no crickets in this moment. This might tend to echo the sense of moonlight. In the same way that the poem says "autumn of autumn" it might say, to me, "peace and quiet." But it does not work this way for me. I am thinking of crickets, though not actually hearing them. My thoughts are in contrast to the peaceful moonlight. It's not "a cricketlessness" but "this cricketlessness." That absence of sound is present as an intrusive idea, an earworm. And, therefore, I experience this poem as a moment of tension--a peaceful setting in which my monkey mind is jabbering.

But the simplicity of the poem serves as an encapsulation and my reading experience is one of serenity, even when I read it as a depiction of tension.

John Stevenson

The Heron's Nest XXVII.3, September 2025

RENGAY: 2nd Place, San Francisco International Rengay Contest 2024

Interstate
        Richard L. Matta, San Diego, California
          Billie Dee, San Miguel, New Mexico
 
18-wheelers
shedding 10-ply skin
runaway truck ramp                  Richard
 
big chest, tiny waist
the chrome mudflap chick        Billie
 
        watering hole
        a singing trout
        behind the bar                     Richard
 
        biker funeral
        his brother-in-law’s
        borrowed suit                       Billie
 
hot Harley pipe. . .
the squid’s new ink                    Richard
 
tattoo removal
her last two husbands
finally gone                                  Billie
 
​
Second Place
Judges: Yvette Nicole Kolodjj, Sean Kolodji--comments
Grit and grime permeate this poem about living and dying in the fast lane, driving us into a memorable and vivid portrait that evokes Route 66 Americana. The fish-out-of-water discomfort of a biker donning an ill-fitted ‘borrowed suit’ is relatable. We watch the hot-headed squid (biker jargon for a specific type of reckless biker) impulsively get a new tattoo, new scar, or worse. The poem effectively transitions from tires shedding its skin to the undulating shapely silhouette of the ‘chrome mudflap chick,’ a symbol of the unattainable standards of feminine beauty. The poem ultimately ends with a woman shedding her tattoos and her ex-husbands. The stories of those that occupy this milieu are intriguing—the tone and theme of this poem really stood out from all the other contest entrants.
 

AWARDS: HSA Gary Gay Rengay Contest, 2024

 Big Sky Country

        up past midnight
        northern lights still dancing
        in our heads

Rising at dawn, we pack the worn rucksack with just the necessities—pocketknife, mosquito spray, snake bite kit, an old issue of Newsweek—and head out with our fishing poles. As we enter the first stand of pine, Mikey turns and waves goodbye to our cabin. I grin, knowing no one’s awake but us kids.

At the sagebrush flat we catch a batch of baby grasshoppers. Granny showed me how last summer. "Walk real slow through the scrub and swat the little critters with a rolled-up magazine—not too hard, you just want to stun them. Stow them in the Prince Albert’s can from your Grandad’s tackle box."

Our trail becomes steep now. The rattle of swift water grows louder as we crest the ridge, then descend to our favorite spot below the beaver dam. A small meadow of gnawed-off stumps is overgrown with skunk cabbage and horsetail reeds. Mikey spots moose tracks so we’re on the lookout. Those thick willows lining the creek will give us cover if one shows up.

        scent of rain . . .
        a pair of rainbows
        thumping in the creel

 Honorable Mention (Judges: Barbara Sabol, Peter Newton)

Comments: The opening haiku of this haibun works as a prologue to an engaging narrative describing a childhood memory in "Big Sky Country." The present tense prose creates a sense of immediacy, such that the reader is apt to hear the voice of a ten-year old. Specific language and tangible sensory imagery such as "the rattle of swift water,' the brush of horsetail reeds" and the sight of "gnawed-off stumps" produce a cinematic effect that draws the reader into this adventure. Granny's quoted caution further animates the story, and the final prose line re-opens the narrative with the possibility that the appearance of a moose might further add to an adventure. The deftly rendered closing haiku fully re-engages our senses, complimenting the prose while adding an associated image of a successful fishing  escapade.

Frogpond 47.3, Autumn 2024

HAIBUN: 1st prize, San Francisco International Haibun Contest 2023

Rattlesnake Canyon
 
That summer my first blood arrived
while I was camped in the woods
of Montana.
 
        rainbow weather— 
        turning wet stones
        for trout bait
 
I knew what it was, but still wondered
what sin against Nature had earned me
this curse. . .
 
        thigh-deep
        in the rush of snowmelt
        empty creel
 
. . .like the little Kumari Devi,
expelled from her Nepalese palace
when she proved herself mortal.
 
        this deep lull
        of afternoon creek song
        letting the hellgrammites go

 
Youmans, Rich (ed), Contemporary Haibun, Vol 19. Red Moon Press, 2024

FIRST PRIZE: San Francisco International Haibun Contest 2023

__________
Commentary (Judges: Stephen Henry Gill, Shalini Pattabiraman)
 
Seldom does one encounter a piece of writing in which man and nature are so completely at one. “Rattlesnake Canyon” transports us back not only to adolescence, but to primitive times, when man lived in communion with nature and not apart from it. Following on from the ancient Daoist philosophers of China, Basho referred to this holistic paradigm as ‘jinen’ and he believed in it. Dee has interwoven a personal narrative of discovery and doubt (in the past tense) with three excellent haiku (in the present), all of which could stand on their own. The prose is lineated as if it were a poem, partly perhaps to avoid the ungainly layout that would have resulted if each short paragraph had been spread out wide, shallow and too regularly between the haiku. Lineation here helps construct an appearance of asymmetry, as well as slowing down the delivery of the narrative, thus more effectively separating the poems. I enjoyed the allusion to the Newari goddess incarnate, Kumari, of whom I once, when in Kathmandu, did catch a precious glimpse! At the very end, in letting go of the hellgrammites (mayfly/dobsonfly larvae used as fish bait), the reader also feels somehow launched with them … surrendering to the current as it winds away into another story in some reach of clean water further downstream.  (SHG)
 

                 Rattlesnake Creek, Southwest Montana

AWARDS: HSA Gary Gay Rengay Contest, 2023

Thirst
        Neena Singh and Billie Dee

morning mist
a dew drop slides down
the mango leaf

green papaya's bitter edge
monsoon heat

        night showers
        singing your name
        red hibiscus

        after the downpour
        chattering crows drown out
        the muezzin

sugarcane harvest
a whiff of afternoon toil

moonbow
the pregnant tabby laps
from an oxcart rut


Third Place (Judges: Marcyn Del Clements, Seren Fargo)

Comments:
Thirst has such delightful images, like a painting from Van Gogh.—MDC

Perfect title. Another ell-crafted rengay, with satisfying variation between the verses, while staying true to the theme. I don't know if the title was decided on before or after the rengay itself was written, but it is another perfect example of how important the title is. In this case, it reflects the commonality within the verses, but in an indirect, somewhat subtle fashion. No one verse actually mentioned "thirst." I also found great satisfaction in this rengay's employment of so many of the physical senses--from the "papaya's bitter edge" to "a whiff of afternoon toil." Wonderfully provocative. Polishing it off so well, it ends with the full and rich imagery of a pregnant tabby lapping from an oxcart rut. Superb.—SF

Frogpond 46.3, Autumn 2023

RENGAY: First Place, San Francisco International Rengay Contest 2023

Reflections 

        Richard L. Matta and Billie Dee

fireworks
a blue heron fishes
shooting stars 

depth of the glacial lake. . .
Perseid shower 

      distant splash 

      moonglow shimmers 

      in ripples 

     overhand cast
     spinner glint mirrors 

     the night sky 

the comet’s tail
a large-mouth bass 

this vast stretch
           of Milky Way
                   salmon eggs 

First Place, 2023 (Judge: Gary Gay)

TANKA: The Tejasvat Award, June 2023

 

AWARDS: San Francisco International Rengay Contest, 2023

 The Tour Boat’s Wake 
        Michael Dylan Welch and Billie Dee

San Diego Zoo—

a slow line
for the pandas 

a row of make-out cars
at Sunset Cliffs

         the Coronado Bridge
         curving over sailboats. . .
         the tour boat’s wake 

         sun glint on bay chop
         we paddle our kayaks past
         the USS Midway 

low-riders on parade
in Old Town 

orchid show
the Spreckels Organ
shakes Balboa Park  

Honorable Mention, 2023 (Judge: Gary Gay)

RENGAY: HSA Rengay Contest, 2022

Desert Highway
        Billie Dee and Naia

the feather trapped
in a Chevy grill
dust devil horizon

riding an updraft
            turkey vultures

        rock doves
        preen in the heat
        ATV exhaust

        windswept dunes
                distant echoes
                from campfires

old coyote
scavenging scraps

        star-filled night
        a kangaroo rat
        noses the tent flap


Honorable Mention (Judges: Kristan Lindquist, Michael Dylan Welch)

Frogpond 45.3, Autumn 2022

RENGAY: 2022 HSA Rengay Awards, 2nd Place

Weavings
         Billie Dee and Neena Singh

rose-laced dawn
a young girl sweeping petals
from the courtyard

old narrow bed
our parents sleep entwined

        Ganga ghat
        the barefoot cobbler
        with crossed legs

        a rickshaw puller
        wipes his sweat
        city din

festival tuk-tuk
my driver's betel-stained teeth

Vedic chants
weaving prayers in one thread
a garland of marigolds

__________
Judge's Comments: A rich cultural context weaves itself into this rengay, adding an exotic flavor for North American readers. The first two verses might at first seem to be possible anywhere, focusing on entwinings. But from the third verse on, readers know we are in India, which makes us reconsider the location of the first two verses. We experience temples, transportation devices, and religious chants, each one further developing the theme of things woven together. The dawn is laced with color, parents wrap themselves together in bed, legs are crossed, the city's din envelops a sweating worker, teeth are stained, and prayers weave themselves into a garland of flowers. This rengay weaves us into its world. 
—Michael Dylan Welsh


Frogpond 45.3, Autumn 2022

RENGAY: 2021 HSA Garry Gay Rengay Award

Perseverance
        by Deborah P Kolodji and Billie Dee

backyard bird call
Perseverance
lands on Mars

blast of solar wind
the dank of withered reeds

... .Venusian clouds
.....a biplane circles
.....the sky above me

.....the half-moon betta
.....sipping air
.....Europa’s hidden seas

cardinals at the feeder
snowfall on Pluto

Kepler’s star
the iron in my blood
blood red

3rd Place, HSA Garry Gay Rengay Award, 2021

RENGAY: 2021 San Francisco Int'l Rengay Contest

I am pleased to announce the following two rengay have placed in the 2021 San Francisco International Rengay Contest (scroll down to read judge’s comments). Many thanks to my talented writing partners, Naia and Deborah P Kolodji, to Haiku Poets of Northern California, who sponsored the event, and with deep gratitude to the judges: Julie Schwerin and Dan Schwerin.

Omicron
           Deborah P Kolodji, USA
           Billie Dee, USA

    gray January
    the only visitor    
    hummingbirds

    the softest pink    
    first mourning dove song

            crow caw
            no more room
            in the morgue

            why
            am I telling you this
            screech owls all night

    mask mandate
    a peacock's reflection

    the last nestling
    left to feed
            cuckoo chick

                           Second Place, 2021 HPNA Rengay Contest

 Lineage
           Naia, USA
           Billie Dee, USA

     prairie stillness
     awaiting the foal's
     first breath

     drinking from the same trough
    old gelding and I

            curry comb
            the roan stallion pins back
            his ears

            horsefly weather
            my bowlegged grandfather
            brushes his Stetson

    cowpoke on all fours
    the toddler squeals giddyup!

    the farrier's wagon
                lists to one side
    lazy afternoon

                           Honorable Mention, 2021 HPNA Rengay Contest

 

AWARDS: HSA Gary Gay Rengay Contest, 2021

Perseverance
        —Deborah P Kolodge and Billie Dee

backyard bird call
Perseverance
lands on Mars

blast of solar wind
the dank of withered reeds

        Venusian clouds
        a biplane circles
        the sky above me

        the half-moon betta
               sipping air
        Europa's hidden seas

cardinals at the feeder
snowfall on Pluto

Kepler's star
the iron in my blood
blood red


Third Place (Judges: John Thompson and Jacquie Pearce)

Comments: This audacious dual-theme rengay stretches our imaginations across the universe, yet at the same time keeps us firmly grounded on our home planet—a brilliant mix of science and poetics full of intriguing leaps and links. The verses combine an objective scientific tone with underlying emotional tensions associated with the contemplation of the diverse possibilities of life. There is also a sense of playfulness with the surprising comparisons and images. "Venusian clouds" are juxtaposed with a circling biplane, an already antiquated technology that represents one of the first steps in our reach for the stars. A fish with a stellar-sounding name (a "half-moon betta") leaves its water environment to momentarily "sip air," perhaps suggesting that we are like fish out of water in our journey into space, or that there may be mysteries to uncover in the hidden seas of Jupiter's moon. At the same time, it subtly reminds us (whether intentionally or not) of our own evolutionary history of arising from the sea, evoking a sense that we are just at the beginning of our journey. The rengay concludes with "Kepler's star," a supernova that would have produced heat and chaos so intense it may have created new elements such as iron, which a basic part of our bodies and of our environment (used in the creation of tools of war and other technology). The reference to "iron" and "blood" (with its red color and associations with blood-loss) return us to Mars, the planet of the first verse, and the god of war. Chaos can either be an end or a beginning. Perhaps, as we reach for the stars, we need to recognize that the stuff of stars is already here around us and inside us.

Frogpond 44.3, Autumn 2021

        

        

AWARDS: International Tokutomi Memorial Haiku Contest, 2011

2011 International Tokutomi Memorial Haiku Contest --judges: Toru Kiuchi, Japan; Kris Moon, Japan. This contest is for English language haiku written in three lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables. Each poem is required to contain one season word/phrase from an assigned list. Sponsored by the Yuki Teikei Haiku Society [http://yths.org].

First Prize:

    the familiar cough
    of a neighbor's old Chevy
    winter solitude

Third Prize:

    finding her letter
    in his old leather jacket
    winter solitude

Honorable Mention (2):

    snuffing out candles
    just for the joy of their scent
    winter solitude

    new year's confetti
            the accordion player
..........        leans back on his heels