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Frogpond 41.3 • 2018

Museum of Haiku
Literature Award

Haiku & Senryu

Essay 1 - "Labor Day"

Essay 2 - "H is for Haiku"




Book Reviews




by Kathe L. Palka

We’ve gathered once again at the local courthouse. This time we protest the separation of children from their families at our country’s southern border. For a few hours we feel empowered by our shared commitment. We hold on to hope. It’s a hot late June day. We share shade and sunblock, pass out water bottles and listen to speeches. We sing, we chant, hold up our signs and swap our own immigrant histories. We cheer when passing vehicles honk in solidarity with our cause. But not everyone waves and honks. Some of us pray.

summer heat
through a truck's open windows
strains of Dixie






Paradise Regained

by Michael Sheffield

Living in the Garden of Eden and lolling about stark naked in the balmy air was truly wonderful. But then came that fall, a real bummer. Some say it was the fall from primal innocence. Others say perhaps the fall from grace. But I say it was the fall from timelessness into time, rather like an apple falling through space. And then, splat, an unwelcomed encounter with the density of matter. So the question is, how do we rise from the fall? How do we regain the spaciousness of space and not lose touch with pizza, roses, Chopin or the magic of falling in love?

tiny blossoms
on the baby's bonnet
your hand in mine