Justin Webb

HAIKU

Like Basho or Kerouac, I seek my
own frog pond. The vagrant splash of
newborn tadpoles torn from
glowering reeds. Gentle pad ripples.

Setting out to tell a story, we
do not realize
it’s already told. Mother’s croak
passed on, passed on through us

and no syllables or onji
or clapping can calm the Moon
in lamenting her moss flesh,
her mountains and sticky tongue;

she is the pine straw and lemongrass,
the sun’s safe beating warmth. The strands
beading down below her sea. Listen: she
calls us. Her children. The darker grass.

Author Bio

Justin Webb has been reading and writing poetry since he was first introduced to the writings of e.e. cummings in 2002. Currently a senior studying English and Philosophy at the State University of New York at Fredonia, he is always seeking new avenues of self-expression, and he experiments with form as a means to enhance the poem’s message. After graduation, Justin hopes to pursue an MFA Creative Writing in poetry.