Alone on a Wild Coast

Renée Owen

Alone on a Wild Coast

72 pages
198 mm x 129 mm / 7¾" x 5⅛"
ISBN 978-1-903543-34-4


Honorable Mention, The Touchstone Distinguished Books Award

Praise for Alone on a Wild Coast

Alone on a Wild Coast, Renée Owen’s compelling collection of haiku and haibun, draws the reader into the interplay between a dynamic landscape and an interior coast, between our environment and intuited feelings. As if the world collaborates in her perceptions, the tumbling of one thing into another creates anticipation for each next step in Renée’s vision.’
—Susan Diridoni

‘Renée Owen’s haiku and haibun connect deeply with the quiet mysteries of nature. Her ability to embrace the moment and simultaneously let it go allows her to share her poetic experiences and perceptions so as to enrich her readers’ lives. Alone on A Wild Coast is an articulate and resonant guide to the heart’s transcendent moments.’
—John Thompson

‘I have long been a fan of Renée Owen’s work, some of the most beautiful being written today. She manages to be both classical and modern at the same time, using fresh images and engaging, human-oriented themes. It’s wonderful to have a full-length collection of her haiku, sequences, and haibun.’
—Charles Trumbull
Editor emeritus, Modern Haiku

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Haiku & Haibun

what I will miss . . .
the tips of pines
against a blue sky

one two three stars
I become stillness
then night

Fields of Cotton

A broken window glints in the baking Carolina sun, ivy spilling from the pane’s jagged edge. Board and batten siding barely hangs on. As I cross a clearing of dead grass, the ground, rutted with rodent holes, gives way underfoot. On its crumbling foundation, the old house sags. Beneath the window, broken concrete blocks. I step up, peer into the gloom. After the washed-out white of summer, nothing but darkness inside. My eyes adjust. A few rays of light slant from a gaping crack in the chimney above. Motes of dust slowly twirl in the sunbeams. Leaves from a hundred autumns rot on the dirt-strewn floor. An ancient broom and apron rest, awaiting their owner’s return.

          billowing fields of cotton
          from the window
          the master’s dark daughter