Friday, May 23, 2014

Haiku by A.J. Huffman

Carousel horses
fly, frozen ghosts of spirit,
captured purity.

Umbrellas offer
protection but not solace.
Rain still makes me cry.

Sandcastle learning:
What hands toil to erect,
nature will erase.

Color by numbers.
Two tiny hands pretending
they are Picasso’s.

Crescent snags starless
sky, illuminates blanket
of smothering night.

A.J. Huffman has published seven solo chapbooks and one joint chapbook through various small presses.  Her eighth solo chapbook, Drippings from a Painted Mind, won the 2013 Two Wolves Chapbook Contest.  She is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and her poetry, fiction, haiku, and photography have appeared in hundreds of national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, Bone Orchard, EgoPHobia, Kritya, and Offerta Speciale, in which her work appeared in both English and Italian translation.  She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press.


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