Andrew Hamlin haiku

• Summer’s last party
• The boy bounces a pebble
• off his teeth

• ***
• Summer dies humid
• one new note in the klaxon
• on the fire engine

• ***
• Maid in doorway
• rocked back on bare heels
• from a spring shower

• ***
• My ceaseless fan
• proves quite mortal, really —
• the electric bill

• ***
• Blue swallow, gone...
• upon the pond
• fresh skins of ice

• ***
• How soon, this year
• cherry blossoms — how soon
• the windshower

• ***
• I’ve got nothing left —
• housefly pivots, sticky feet
• kitchen window

• ***
• That light, this light
• none of it all shall sate —
• the firefly

• ***
• That cold day,
• not yet late in the year—
• persimmons crack

• ***
• My head empty
• those are trees, at least, I think...
• and somewhere stars...

Andrew Hamlin likes to photograph shoes and write about dog shit. He was born and raised in Seattle, where he resides today. He attended the Evergreen State College, where he wrote and edited arts coverage for the Cooper Point Journal. He is the film critic for the Northwest Asian Weekly, and he’s published arts coverage and criticism in the San Diego Reader, Village Voice, Seattle Times, Seattle Weekly, Goldmine, and other publications. He misses Helen Wiggin. Hamlin’s website is andrewhamlin.org.