• https://tomclausen.wordpress.com/
  • Mann Library reading 4-21-09

tom clausen

~ poems and photos

Tag Archives: book review

laughing to myself

21 Tuesday Jun 2022

Posted by Tom Clausen in Book reviews, haiku, Laughing To Myself, Published Poems, senryu

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

book review, haiku, laughing to myself., little poems, poetry, Published Poems, senryu

Laughing To Myself, by Tom Clausen, Michael Ketchek Publisher, 125 High St., Rochester, New York, 14609, mketchek@frontier.com, 2013. 8.5 X 5.5 inch paperback, 25 pages.
Review by Dennis (chibi) Holmes

I’ve known Tom online for a few years. He has written in the short poem venue based upon the Japanese haiku, senryu, haibun, and tanka since 1989. His book, Laughing To Myself, spans then until now with poems plucked from publications such as Bottle Rockets, Brussels Sprouts, Empty Ring of Stones, Frogpond, Modern Haiku, and Upstate Dim Sum, to mention a few.

Laughing To Myself, is strewn mostly with three line poems together with a two and few one line poems. The poems are personable, mostly, containing a “nature” theme. The poems are easy to read and resonate with an inner calm, offering a polite “ah” with a thoughtful yet enjoyable “ha.”

A good three line example from Tom’s book:

riverbank swallows
  my beer label
     peels easily


(It’s probably my penchant for puns, but, I read “swallows” as word play, although, I do not know if that Tom’s intent.)

A two line poems:


losing control of my son
 —and myself


(I’ve been there and do/did that!)

A one line example:


in the theater spotlight dust falls

(the imagery quite fetching)

I would hope to see more of Tom’s poems in future publications. I’ve smiled at his poems in, Laughing To Myself.

review by Dennis (chibi) Holmes in Lynx XXVIII: no. 3- October , 2013

Nick Virgilio

07 Tuesday Jun 2022

Posted by Tom Clausen in Book reviews, Frogpond, haiku

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

book review, Frogpond, haiku, Nick Virgilio, poetry

Nick Virgilio, My Haiku Hero by Tom Clausen, Ithaca, New York ( book review -Frogpond v.35 no.2 2012 )

This essay as book review records how the haiku and life of Nick Virgilio helped me to see the way in which haiku could be a manner of relating and sharing with others my love of life and this world. By happy serendipity Rick Black, publisher of Turtle Light Press, learned at the 2009 Haiku North America conference that a large archive of Nick Virgilio’s unpublished haiku had been left with the English department of Rutgers University in Camden, N.J. His admiration of Virgilio’s work, combined with editor Raffael de Gruttola’s review of some 3,000 unpublished haiku, has fortuitously resulted in Nick Virgilio: A Life in Haiku. 1 Dedicated to Virgilio’s brother Tony, the Nick Virgilio Haiku Association members and all those who have helped keep the poetry alive, Nick Virgilio: A Life in Haiku is aptly described on the cover as “a collection of newly discovered haiku gems by one of America’s most beloved haiku poets (with a handful of old favorites, some essays, an interview and some photos thrown in, too).” It contains an introduction by de Gruttola, a selection of newly discovered, previously unpublished haiku mixed with well-known haiku (124 all together), Kathleen O’Toole’s “Afterword: An Echo in Time,” Marty Moss Coane’s “An Interview With Nick,” Michael Doyle’s “A Tribute to Nick,” as well as essays by Virgilio himself, including “A Journey to a Haiku, On Haiku in English” and “A Note to Young Writers.” The book rounds out with photos, acknowledgments and an appendix of original manuscript pages. Virgilio and his many wonderful haiku held a prominent place in the haiku community from the 1960s until his death and this new book is a wonderful chance for anyone who has more recently embraced the form to recognize the brilliance of his work and his life.


Nick Virgilio: A Life in Haiku offers exceptionally poignant information and insight about the man’s passion for poetry and how hard he worked to perfect his own haiku as a “way of life.” Virgilio was born in Camden, N.J. on June 28, 1928 and, tragically, died of a heart attack in Washington D.C. on January 3, 1989 while taping a CBS-TV Nightwatch segment that was to feature his love of haiku. In his beautiful tribute to Virgilio, Father Michael Doyle of Camden’s Sacred Heart Church shares the incredible story of how they met through a special Mass he led to commemorate 300 soldiers from South Jersey who had been killed in Vietnam. Father Doyle handed out an index card for each soldier so that, as he called out the names of the dead, whoever held the card might rise. The card Father Doyle ended up with bore the name Lawrence J. Virgilio, Nick’s younger brother. Four years later Virgilio’s parents requested that Father Doyle conduct a Mass for their son. Father Doyle remembered the name from his card and eventually met Virgilio through this meeting with his parents. The rest of the story details how Virgilio found a welcoming community at Sacred Heart and how he devoted himself to a daily practice of haiku and the enthusiastic sharing of what he wrote with friends and family—and now, us.

This book is simply and absolutely indispensable reading for anyone interested in the life and work of a genuine haiku visionary. We learn in these pages about Virgilio’s daily round of experience and how he took the tragic loss of his brother and his own personal losses in work and love and forged them into a lasting body of powerful haiku. Absorbing what has been collected in Nick Virgilio: A Life in Haiku is also to recognize how haiku can become a way of life. As a poet and a man, Virgilio is an inspiration for all of us who, too, would find meaning and enhanced living with a haiku focus. When I discovered haiku in the late 1980s and fell in love with it, it was impossible to know that 25 years later the haiku and the poets that enchanted me then would continue to speak to me the most today. “The first cut is the deepest” (from a song by Cat Stevens) is an entirely apt expression for how I feel about the poets and haiku that moved me then to internally vow that I’d be reading and trying to write haiku for the rest of my life. Selected Haiku of Nicholas Virgilio, published by Black Moss Press in 1988 and edited by Rod Willmot, was one of the first haiku books I purchased after dipping my toe in the haiku pond way back when. Looking back on that purchase I am so grateful for the wonderful examples that came to me then and continue to be an inspiration and touchstone to the possibilities that haiku still offer today.

In his substantial introduction to A Life in Haiku, de Gruttola pinpoints the source of Virgilio’s masterful sensitivity as occurring around the time his family “went from hope to despair in confronting [his brother] Larry’s loss . . . it was devastating to them to deal with the ultimate sacrifice. It was about this time that Virgilio’s haiku became solemn and elegiac. He attempted to deal with this tragedy by writing haiku as a healing process.” De Gruttola further writes, “The pathos, if you will, becomes a constant reminder for Nick that one’s life can be transformed if there is a will to believe in yourself and in your art. It’s through this search and belief that Nick became the great haiku poet that we know today. As we read his haiku today in this first American edition of his work, we find an almost monk-like approach in pursuit of the deepest moments of his life. His unique haiku written in 1963:

lily:
out of the water . . .
out of itself



captured a subtle awareness that the great Japanese haiku poets, from Bashō to Santōka, knew all along. It was possible to say more with less.”2 Perhaps the haiku that first hit me with the real power of Virgilio’s profound simplicity was this:



into the blinding sun . . .
the funeral procession’s
glaring headlights



I remember reading this and not knowing what exactly to “think” about it, but feeling some type of mesmerized fascination with “seeing” that procession and those headlights and that sun and realizing that as it is with death there was something “beyond” in what this haiku was suggesting. I continue to be mesmerized by this and almost all of Virgilio’s haiku. There are the many lasting tributes to his younger brother Lawrence:


telegram in hand,
the shadow of the marine
darkens our screen door



summer nightfall:
dazed, all I heard from the Major
“. . . killed in Vietnam . . .”


sixteenth autumn since:
barely visible grease marks
where he parked his car


There are the poems that sear the mind, like this indelible one written in 1967:


the sack of kittens
sinking in the icy creek
increases the cold



In the WHYY-Philadelphia interview included in this book, Virgilio commented extensively on this haiku: Emotion is expressed on the sensory level—this is the essence of haiku . . . one form of existence passes into another, warmth into cold, living into non-living, the organic returns to the inorganic. We too, are involved in this eternal transition; we too are in the sack sinking in the icy creek. The doctrine of Mahayana Buddhism holds that life and the individual are merely temporary manifestations of being I can remember the instant shock I felt when I first read this haiku. I love cats and kittens and this elicits such a challenging visceral reaction that to this day the poem remains for me uncomfortably sad. Death in life is a much-repeated theme in Virgilio’s haiku. His life was weighted not only by personal losses, but by the losses he saw in his day-to-day walks around Camden and in the daily news.



On the cardboard box
holding the frozen wino:
Fragile: Do Not Crush



at the mine entrance,
on time cards beneath the clock:
the names of the dead



on the petition
condemning Agent Orange:
the names of the dead


Given how memorable are Virgilio’s haiku related to loss and death it is rewarding to see as well how he chose to express his love of life. Many life affirming and beautiful tributes to nature, celebrating its eternal cycles, may also be found in this collection:

above the cloud peak
below the summer moon—
a flight of snow geese


rising and falling . . .
a blanket of blackbirds
feeds on the snowy slope


a bittern booms—
the harsh cry of a marsh hawk,
the crescent moon

after the spring storm . . .
the farm girl washes her hair
in the rain barrel

a skylark’s song
and a billowing cloud
fills my emptiness

Virgilio’s vast collection of haiku holds room enough and more for readers of many kinds and persuasions—each picking and choosing not only among the very great poems, but among the lesser known as well. Of Virgilio’s haiku that I have related to the most there are a few that I just love— among these,

autumn twilight:
the wreath on the door
lifts in the wind


for its beautiful and subtle sense that allows the reader to imagine being quietly at this door witnessing this moment alone and touching on a feeling for something that exists within us and beyond us at once. The poem captures the eternal in a brief yet clear moment. I have also loved “over spatterdocks” for the one word that has resonated and appealed to me since the day I first read it:



over spatterdocks,
turning at corners of air:
dragonfly



I must admit I had never heard of spatterdocks before reading this haiku and yet intuitively the idea of “corners of air” “over spatterdocks” delighted me. At first I imagined that spatterdocks was an actual dock but then sheepishly discovered it was a plant! (Spatterdock is a perennial plant with leaves that arise from a large spongy rhizome.) Always a pleasure when we learn more about our world, especially in haiku! I have loved, too, the inimitable witty wink of solemn satori:


Thanksgiving alone:
ordering eggs and toast
in an undertone


For me, Nick Virgilio has been and remains a splendid mentor, an American sage, a true master and pioneer of the haiku form. Those well acquainted with his earlier Selected Haiku and with his work in periodicals and anthologies will certainly want to purchase a copy of this book. Anyone unfamiliar with Virgilio will want to do so, too. The marvelous selection of previously unpublished haiku, the essays and the wonderful radio interview beautifully bring to life his zeal, his character and his vision. To visit with his haiku and his illuminated life is truly to recognize his heroic qualities. Virgilio, like many of us, arrived at haiku as a life calling almost accidentally, but his immersion in the form and devotion to its creation leaves no doubt that there was nothing accidental about the passion and precision he poured into his love for it:


my spring love affair:
the old upright Remington
wears a new ribbon



on the manuscript
the shadow of a butterfly
finishes the poem



Notes 1. de Gruttola, Raffael, ed. Nick Virgilio: A Life in Haiku. Arlington, VA: Turtle Light Press, 2012, 137 pp., perfect softbound, 5.5 x 8.5. ISBN 978-0-9748147-3-5, US $14.95 . 2. Ibid., p. xi. 3. Ibid., p. xii. ♦♦♦


Tom Clausen lives in Ithaca, New York, and has worked at Cornell University in the A.R. Mann Library for over 35 years, where he currently coordinates a daily haiku feature on the library’s home page. Tom has been reading and attempting to write haiku and related short poetic forms since the late 1980s. He has been a member of the Rt. 9 Upstate Dim Sum haiku group since 2003 with John Stevenson, Hilary Tann, and Yu Chang.


Frogpond v.35 no.2 Summer 2012

finding the way

06 Monday Jun 2022

Posted by Tom Clausen in Book reviews, haiku, Modern Haiku

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

book review, haiku, Modern Haiku, poetry

Book review by Tom Clausen in Modern Haiku vol. 34, no. 1 Winter-Spring 2003

finding the way: haiku and field notes by paul m. (Foster City, Calif.: Press Here, 2002). 56 poems, 4 field notes. Introduction by the author. 4″ x 5.5″, saddle-stitched, with a heavy illustrated wrapper. ISBN 1-878798-25-1. $6.00 postpaid in the United States, or $7.00 elsewhere, from Press Here, P.O. Box 3339, Redmond, WA 98073-3339 (please make checks or international money orders payable to “Michael D. Welch”).
“Finding the way” is a wonderfully apt title for a collection of haiku, and in this collection, paul m.’s first, you will find the pleasure and serendipity of a well-chosen path. The author has been writing since 1988, with many of his haiku winning awards and recognition for their clarity and gentle reach. Press Here publisher Michael D. Welch states about this collection “A serenity of quiet confidence marks these poems, a serenity of having found the haiku way.” In an insightful introduction paul notes that haiku “of all poetry seems to most closely examine the light that connects us with the seemingly disparate, the intimate details of our lives and surroundings, the echo of one thing upon another.”
Although finding the way is replete with haiku values and aesthetics, I feel that what gives this collection a distinguished signature is its use of this “echo.” Throughout this beautifully produced book are haiku that demonstrate how a reverberation between two images with one working against (or with) another enhances both. For example


falling leaves
the rusty wheelbarrow
heavy with stones•

**
**

that chipmunk again
river sunlight skipping
leaf to leaf

**
**

There is much to delight in this collection as you discover how finely and carefully paul presents the “coming to”—a clear intuition of what it is that speaks to us in a haiku way. There is a strength to the evenness and consistency in the tone of these haiku. There are keen perceptions and thoughtful relationships that unfold slowly in the consciousness at just the right speed. Many of the haiku appear to be from hikes on trails and what was found off or beyond these trails.


unpacking the map—
a mountain spring
crosses the trail•

**
**


cold wind
on the granite slope
marmot scat


One feature in finding the way that seemed slightly disconnected from the strength of the body of haiku contained are the four field notes which are distributed throughout the collection. These are brief prose passages detailing paul’s mindset on the trail about the trail. Although the field notes certainly do not detract from the superb quality of this collection, I personally did not feel that they added significantly to what is conveyed marvelously by the haiku themselves.

With extraordinary quality to the paper, design, and presentation, this collection of haiku invites repeat visits for solace and inspiration. At $5.00 this is an exceptional book of haiku to add to your haiku library or give as a special gift. Relatively small in size, finding the way is a book you can easily carry along to a favorite reflective place to savor the way these haiku will find you, finding the way.
A personal favorite in closing:

uphill trail
the scarred trunk
of a giant sequoia

homework- review- by tom clausen

01 Sunday Dec 2019

Posted by Tom Clausen in americana, Chapbooks, haiku, Haiku Way of Life, Lynx,, tanka, Published Poems, senryu, tanka

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

book review, chapbook, family, family life, haiku, home, homework, life, poems, poetry, senryu, tanka, writing

Homework by Tom Clausen. Saddle-stitched, full color cover, 4″ x 6″, 36 pages. $10., ppd. ISBN: 1-903543-00-2. Order from Snapshots Press, 132 Crosby, Liverpool, L23 8XS, England.

To quote the jacket notes: “Focusing squarely on domestic life, this collection of haiku, senryu, and tanka is often funny, often sad and always paradoxically both familiar and eye-opening.” It cannot be said better nor more succinctly what this newest book by Tom Clausen contains. I can only add my continuing praise for Tom’s work. It is always a revelation and delight how he seizes on the tiniest experience, and through his examination of it and the cool observation his own feelings, carries it over into a major event. This leaves the reader wondering, “Now, why did I not notice that?” and “Why did I not think of that as material for a poem?”. It seems that tanka is especially designed for the methods of Tom Clausen. Even when aware of the smallest thing, he is also aware of how that thing or event is affecting him. This occurs even in his haiku.

While some purists might fault his haiku for not being closely enough aligned with the nature-nature viewpoint, his sensibilities are absolutely accurate for tanka. This collection gains, I think, by the inclusion of his haiku (which often portray the lighter moments of family living). They seem to play off and actually highlight the attributes of his tanka. Altogether, the editing and arrangement of the poems seems especially fine and relevant. For anyone who has grown up in a family or is living in a family now, this book will take away those terrible moments of aloneness when one felt that no one else in the world ever had such moments of doubt, despair and pure undiluted joy. Tom has been there, and he has the courage to face them directly and honestly, and to continue to hang with the feelings until he has created pure poetry out of them.

no longer me
it proves a mystery who it is
I’ve become
walking around this house
with my family there inside

I sort of knew
my coffee cup
was empty –
so much I look in it
just to see

The sensitivity of the editor, John Barlow, is shown in the choice of a drawing done by Tom’s young daughter, Emma Clausen, as cover along with the insider joke of the title of the book – Homework. Delight piles on delight with this one. Review written by Jane Reichhold

Recent Posts

  • needless war by tom clausen
  • fall creek by tom clausen
  • into the mystic by tom clausen
  • haiku poet interview with tom clausen
  • toy soldiers by tom clausen

Categories

  • A Work of Love (4)
  • abandoned buildings (17)
  • Akitsu Quarterly (3)
  • American Haibun & Haiga (3)
  • americana (201)
  • autumn (160)
  • barns (11)
  • bees (8)
  • bicycles and cycling (4)
  • birds (26)
  • Book reviews (5)
  • bottle rockets (7)
  • brass bell (3)
  • bunnies-rabbits (1)
  • butterflies (7)
  • cats (7)
  • cemeteries (7)
  • Chapbooks (9)
  • close up details (289)
  • clouds (80)
  • Cornell (6)
  • deer (26)
  • Dim Sum (4)
  • dogs (1)
  • dragonflies (5)
  • Favorite Haiku (7)
  • fields (70)
  • flowers (67)
  • forests (7)
  • Frogpond (20)
  • frogs (6)
  • fungus (5)
  • gardens (40)
  • gorges (52)
  • Gusts (3)
  • haibun (5)
  • haiku (332)
  • Haiku Circle (1)
  • Haiku Way of Life (13)
  • hedgerow (1)
  • Heron's Nest (1)
  • hills and mountains (38)
  • horses (1)
  • ice (8)
  • Interviews (2)
  • Ithaca (226)
  • lakes and rivers (67)
  • landscapes (245)
  • Laughing To Myself (2)
  • leaves (110)
  • light (5)
  • Lynx,, tanka (3)
  • mailboxes (2)
  • Mann Library Daily Haiku (1)
  • Mexico (2)
  • Modern Haiku (24)
  • moon (10)
  • nature (462)
  • ocean imagery (11)
  • Old Vehicles (8)
  • otata (1)
  • parks (73)
  • paths (96)
  • Peru (19)
  • photos (129)
  • plants (86)
  • poems and photos (1,003)
  • ponds (37)
  • Published Poems (84)
  • puddles (14)
  • Readings (3)
  • reflections (42)
  • roads (26)
  • rust (8)
  • sea shore (2)
  • senryu (45)
  • snow (21)
  • spring (89)
  • squirrels (7)
  • summer (133)
  • sun (31)
  • sunsets (36)
  • tanka (36)
  • Tom Clausen biographical info (10)
  • Tom poems at other sites (15)
  • Tom selected favorites (18)
  • trains (12)
  • trees (155)
  • turtles (7)
  • Wabi Sabi (184)
  • water reflections (93)
  • waterfalls (30)
  • winter (50)
  • Woodnotes (1)

Blogroll

  • American Tanka
  • Blogging Along Tobacco Road
  • bottle rockets press
  • Charlotte Digregorio's Writer's Blog
  • Donna the Buffalo
  • Haiga Online
  • Haiku Canada
  • Haiku Society of America
  • Issa's Untidy Hut
  • Living Haiku Anthology
  • Living Senryu Anthology
  • Mann Library Daily Haiku
  • Michele Harvey
  • Modern Haiku
  • Red Moon Press
  • Snapshot Press
  • Tanka Society of America
  • Terebess Asia Online
  • The Heron's Nest
  • Tiny Words
  • Tom Clausen Twitter
  • Turtle Light Press
  • Upstate Dim Sum
  • You Tube Tom Clausen

Published poems

  • Modern Haiku
  • Akitsu Quarterly
  • ephemerae
  • Mayfly
  • Frogpond
  • Heron’s Nest
  • Woodnotes
  • Gusts
  • red lights
  • Haiku Canada
  • Raw Nervz
  • American Tanka
  • Dim Sum
  • Haiku Headlines
  • Ribbons
  • Haiku Quarterly
  • bottle rockets
  • South by Southeast
  • black bough
  • Heron’s Nest
  • Frogpond
  • Akitsu Quarterly
  • Modern Haiku
  • Mayfly
  • Haiku Canada

Archives

  • June 2023
  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • September 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • July 2021
  • April 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • June 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • June 2016
  • December 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • August 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013

Recent Comments

Suzette Benjamin on deer flies by tom clausen
Tom Clausen on deer flies by tom clausen
Suzette Benjamin on deer flies by tom clausen
rothpoetry on past collapse by tom clau…
rothpoetry on before wings by tom claus…

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Categories

  • A Work of Love (4)
  • abandoned buildings (17)
  • Akitsu Quarterly (3)
  • American Haibun & Haiga (3)
  • americana (201)
  • autumn (160)
  • barns (11)
  • bees (8)
  • bicycles and cycling (4)
  • birds (26)
  • Book reviews (5)
  • bottle rockets (7)
  • brass bell (3)
  • bunnies-rabbits (1)
  • butterflies (7)
  • cats (7)
  • cemeteries (7)
  • Chapbooks (9)
  • close up details (289)
  • clouds (80)
  • Cornell (6)
  • deer (26)
  • Dim Sum (4)
  • dogs (1)
  • dragonflies (5)
  • Favorite Haiku (7)
  • fields (70)
  • flowers (67)
  • forests (7)
  • Frogpond (20)
  • frogs (6)
  • fungus (5)
  • gardens (40)
  • gorges (52)
  • Gusts (3)
  • haibun (5)
  • haiku (332)
  • Haiku Circle (1)
  • Haiku Way of Life (13)
  • hedgerow (1)
  • Heron's Nest (1)
  • hills and mountains (38)
  • horses (1)
  • ice (8)
  • Interviews (2)
  • Ithaca (226)
  • lakes and rivers (67)
  • landscapes (245)
  • Laughing To Myself (2)
  • leaves (110)
  • light (5)
  • Lynx,, tanka (3)
  • mailboxes (2)
  • Mann Library Daily Haiku (1)
  • Mexico (2)
  • Modern Haiku (24)
  • moon (10)
  • nature (462)
  • ocean imagery (11)
  • Old Vehicles (8)
  • otata (1)
  • parks (73)
  • paths (96)
  • Peru (19)
  • photos (129)
  • plants (86)
  • poems and photos (1,003)
  • ponds (37)
  • Published Poems (84)
  • puddles (14)
  • Readings (3)
  • reflections (42)
  • roads (26)
  • rust (8)
  • sea shore (2)
  • senryu (45)
  • snow (21)
  • spring (89)
  • squirrels (7)
  • summer (133)
  • sun (31)
  • sunsets (36)
  • tanka (36)
  • Tom Clausen biographical info (10)
  • Tom poems at other sites (15)
  • Tom selected favorites (18)
  • trains (12)
  • trees (155)
  • turtles (7)
  • Wabi Sabi (184)
  • water reflections (93)
  • waterfalls (30)
  • winter (50)
  • Woodnotes (1)

Archives

  • June 2023
  • May 2023
  • April 2023
  • September 2022
  • July 2022
  • June 2022
  • May 2022
  • November 2021
  • October 2021
  • September 2021
  • July 2021
  • April 2020
  • December 2019
  • November 2019
  • October 2019
  • April 2019
  • March 2019
  • December 2018
  • November 2018
  • October 2018
  • September 2018
  • June 2018
  • April 2018
  • March 2018
  • January 2018
  • December 2017
  • October 2017
  • September 2017
  • June 2017
  • May 2017
  • April 2017
  • March 2017
  • January 2017
  • December 2016
  • November 2016
  • October 2016
  • September 2016
  • August 2016
  • June 2016
  • December 2015
  • October 2015
  • September 2015
  • August 2015
  • July 2015
  • June 2015
  • May 2015
  • April 2015
  • March 2015
  • February 2015
  • January 2015
  • August 2014
  • March 2014
  • February 2014
  • January 2014
  • December 2013
Follow tom clausen on WordPress.com

Recent Comments

Suzette Benjamin on deer flies by tom clausen
Tom Clausen on deer flies by tom clausen
Suzette Benjamin on deer flies by tom clausen
rothpoetry on past collapse by tom clau…
rothpoetry on before wings by tom claus…

Meta

  • Register
  • Log in
  • Entries feed
  • Comments feed
  • WordPress.com

Blog at WordPress.com.

  • Follow Following
    • tom clausen
    • Join 361 other followers
    • Already have a WordPress.com account? Log in now.
    • tom clausen
    • Customize
    • Follow Following
    • Sign up
    • Log in
    • Report this content
    • View site in Reader
    • Manage subscriptions
    • Collapse this bar