Peter Jastermsky
Born: 1953 in Connecticut, USA
Current residence: California, USA
The author of seven books of haiku-based writing, Peter Jastermsky lives in the high desert of Southern California, USA. Peter’s work has appeared in many journals and anthologies. In 2017, Peter invented a new linked form that is haiku-centered called a split sequence. His recent book, Just Dust and Stone (Velvet Dusk Publishing) is a collection of collaborative split sequences, co-written with Bryan Rickert.
morning mirror
the imposing briefness
of form
Failed Haiku, October 2016
in my laugh
my father’s laugh
still bone deep
Failed Haiku, November 2016
backfire from a bus
the war after the war
never ends
Prune Juice, March 2017
relaxing into who I've become waistband
Sonic Boom; issue 8, April, 2017
twisted ankle
I listen for
missing footsteps
Chrysanthemum 22, fall issue
old songs
a wrinkle disappears
with each line
The Zen Space, Spring 2018
self-doubt
all the poetry
lost inside me
The Aurorean, Spring/Summer 2018
same book
we compare notes
in a silent way
Incense Dreams, Issue 2.1
another lost night
my date
with melancholy
Failed Haiku, August 2018
wishing for a branch
of my own
family tree
Under the Basho 2019
Facebook fallout
what we didn’t meme
to say
Prune Juice, September 2019
ocean swim
the taste of
a hundred shipwrecks
Dwarf Stars Anthology, 2019
wanting nothing
in return
dark star
is/let, 2019
morning lizard
only one of us
does our pushups
MacQueen’s Quinterly, May 2020
not ourselves the clouds’ day off
Frameless Sky, July, 2020
hitting the floor already he is somewhere else
Cold Moon Journal, September 2020
prescribed burn
the dead carry on
as wind
Human/Kind, Fall 2020
fumbling the years a turnstile of regret
Sonic Boom, Issue 19
how things change
a sudden love
for masked strangers
behind the mask: haiku in the time of Covid-19, 2020
moonstruck
a dulcimer plays
a case of you
hedgerow #131
golden years inheriting a taste for tarnish
is/let, December 2020
crossing her legs not a rustle in the field
Cold Moon Journal, August 2021
broken stars we turn over the toast points
Weird Laburnum, September 2021
remote sensing a problem person pierces the orbit
Failed Haiku, October 2021
wrangling corpuscles i bite into something bloodless
Heliosparrow, February 2022
except for the grackles always fitting in
bones 23