Tom ClausenTom Clausen

Born 1952 in Ithaca, New York, USA
Residing in Ithaca, New York, USA ( living in same home I grew up in)
Tom Clausen is a life long Ithacan who enjoys walk abouts, bicycling and reading and writing haiku, senryu and tanka. Tom is part of the Rt. 9 Haiku Group and maintains a daily haiku feature at Cornell University's Mann Library.


in her sleep
she steals back
her hand


on the wall
Jesus on the cross
above her side of the bed


dinner over
he addresses
some crumbs


wanting my old life
  when I wanted
  my present life


lunch alone
without a book
I read my mind


sneaking M & M's...
the crunching
in my ears


police car-
my thoughts of what I've done


morning zazen:
marriage counseling


the universe
of my thoughts


before bed
my son's music louder
than mine


most of his studying
out the window


long grocery line
the modest excitement
of my thoughts


just past the church
I clean my glasses


always takes his time
the custodian watches
      the floor dry


reading into it
as much as I can
                   my life


having brushed off
several small ants
an extra large one...


our child
who will not go to sleep
sheep on her pajamas


spring in the air
so many false starts
in my heart


on hold...
branches in the window
wave wildly


sweet corn on the cob
thinking of my old


just oatmeal
the waitress says


my wife asks
if she should feel sorry for me...
"I've got it covered"


relatives set to visit
so many cobwebs
to remove


a dime on the walk
a stranger
beats me to it


she turns down
my favorite music...
plays recorder for me


looking busy
as my wife
pulls in


behind the wheel-
yet another of his


my wife admits
she is not perfect,
but is glad I am


now that I'm over
my bad mood,
she's in one


to the goldfish
 she speaks
   more softly




one child
                             wants to
                             see saw


in my lap           the new kitten
                           I didn't want


after the party


meeting her boyfriend
   our handshake
     out of synch


out of the wind
  how long he combs
         so little hair


          to the zendo
                           to sit still


bar person
            sitting through Happy Hour
            without a word


our director espouses
more expansive ideals
          I stretch


before sleep
laughing to myself
at myself


in the middle
    of my life
        an ulcer


in the shower...
an economy size bar of soap
lands on my toe


down the trail
as horse fly follows
my bald spot


arriving at work, soaked
   just as the rain
      lets up


to help out
at work...
I complain too


just done
the repairman tells me
any fool can do it


first Christmas card
of the year:
L.L. Bean


just as we're
he yawns


another year
stripping down for her
         sweet corn


the plumber
kneeling in out tub
- talking to himself


side by side
his and her


defensive drivers
each waving
the other through


another day closer
to the grave-
my one finger typing


for no good reason
      she excites


on the bench
a young couple carries on
as if I'm not there