"when you were tucked in your grave, / neat as a napkin in a lap, / all words soared off to / some shining tree, / bereaving me / now they’re transforming / into things that hurl by..."
"Says once she tripped that she was her own mother giving birth to herself. She was in labor for forty-eight hours and remembers every second of it: the bed of ice they laid her on as they tried to bring her fever down, the surgical lights spinning like saucers..."
"I’m different than other babies. Their gemstone eyes, chubby everythings, innate ability to wiggle. Me? I’m one legal-sized sheet of paper, blue lines barely visible..."
Joshua St. Claire's poetry has been recognized with the Touchstone Award for Individual Haiku, the British Haiku Society Award for Haiku, the Vancouver Cherry Blossom Festival Haiku Invitational, and other awards.
"Joan, which in certain weathers is / Pronounced Moving Crosswise / Has been known in Paris / And the surrounding country / Side never called the language she spoke / Middle French..."
"I need the flash and the light / the steam and the boat / the spit and the fire / but I cannot seem to recognize / the scrap without the book / the land without the mark / the end without the stop."