Nicholas KlacsanzkyNicholas Klacsanzky

Born in Seattle, USA
Living in Kyiv, Ukraine

Nicholas Klacsanzky is the editor of Haiku Commentary, an online journal for the analysis of haiku and related forms. He started to write haiku with the inspiration of his father, George Klacsanzky, who was the editor of the journal Haiku Zasshi Zo. Nicholas also volunteers as a haiku mentor online.

Contact the poet


the dishwasher
has its own
mantra meditation

Brass Bell, September, 2016

camping alone—
without butter or salt
the taste of bread

The Heron's Nest, Volume XVIII, Number 3: September, 2016

at a stop
the tram and I vibrate
first birch leaves fall

Haikuniverse, November 29th, 2016


flopping ears of the pug fallen maple leaves

Otata, issue 12, December, 2016

father and I
build a bonfire
lost sparks

Modern Haiku, Autumn, 47:3, 2016

park bench
wind turns the page
of a magazine

Akitsu Quarterly, winter issue, 2016

aurora . . .
the wolves continue
to howl with me

північне сяйво...
вовки продовжують
вити зі мною

Cattails, September, 2016

fog through
white wisteria
sunrise above

білі гліцинії
в тумані
схід сонця

Cattails, September, 2016

vast snow
I hear my mother’s name
as a memory

Asahi Shimbun, December 30, 2016

second snowfall . . .
hopping song of the titmouse
on an apricot tree

The Asahi Shimbun, January 6th, 2017

dripping icicle
the length of life

The Asahi Shimbun, January 20th, 2017

a boy draws a bird
at an industrial station
bus window fog

Gnarled Oak, February 1st, 2017

i look away
from the cemetery
snow on Rainier

The Heron's Nest, Volume XIX, Number 1: March 2017

sparse snowflakes
the loneliness
of galaxies

IAFOR Vladimir Devidé Haiku Award, Commended, 2017

frail apple tree
the closest thing we have
to a scarecrow

Cattails, April, 2017


wife's first gray hair I point it out a few times

Brass Bell, May, 2017

the ladybug loses
its red

Brass Bell, May, 2017

mother’s altar . . .
the constant smell
of her absence

Incense Dreams, issue 1, May, 2017

subway transfer
the homeless lady
sells mirrors

Shamrock, issue 37, June, 2017
Reader's Choice for 2017, Runner-up, Shamrock, issue 39, March, 2018

tulip festival …
each person claims
the sun

Akitsu Quarterly, Summer issue, 2017

the ant
wanders across the floor …
meditation room

Akitsu Quarterly, Summer issue, 2017

the mountain
peppered with snow
Wallace Falls

Akitsu Quarterly, Summer issue, 2017

recording of rain
we were all born
from a mother

Hedgerow, issue 115, 2017

solitary walk . . .
the stories of snow

Hedgerow, issue 115, 2017

of the caged chickadee . . .
late winter wind

Modern Haiku, 48:2, 2017

the saint thinks
he renounced everything
mountain wind

Otata, July, 2017


snow powder the graves we can’t smell

Otata, July, 2017

fluorescent light
on dirt carried in—
subway car

Otata, July, 2017


on the darkest of nights eel fishing

Otata, July, 2017

next to the mannequin
a disabled man

Otata, July, 2017

I imagine rain
entering my blood
gray-blue clouds

Uut Poetry, July 5th, 2017

white stork . . .
I speak the name I had
before birth

Bones, issue 13, July, 2017

I confess
to original innocence—
tree peony

Bones, issue 13, July, 2017


summer storm . . .
I push the beetle
back on its feet

Frogpond 37:3, Autumn 2014


autumn dawn . . .
I look in between
escalator stairs

Modern Haiku 46:2, Summer 2015


spring begins . . .
inside the dry bean
a maggot

Modern Haiku 46:2, Summer 2015


spring clouds
my mind full of
broken thoughts

Presence #52, September 2015


ill in spring
again I get to know
my bedroom door

Presence #52, September 2015


street flood
the little girl lets go
of her paper boat

Bottle Rockets #33, April 2015


far from my twin
the bare chestnut branch
colored by a cloud

Modern Haiku 46:3, Autumn 2015


apartment for rent I wonder what the spiders feel

Haiku Scout Report #6, June 2015


learning one's name—
swarming in faint sunlight

A Hundred Gourds 4:4, September 2015


staying at the temple
beneath the bonsai tree
a gnat

The Heron’s Nest, Volume XVII, Number 3: September, 2015


bare branches
touching the wall
of a cancer ward

Wild Plum 1:2, Fall & Winter 2015


night stroll
an owl guides me
to the woods

Acorn #35, Fall 2015


crescent moon in mist—
I make excuses not to sing
to a one-person audience

The Mainichi, August 8th, 2015


the dog barks
while dreaming—
morning mirror

Modern Haiku 46:1, Winter Spring 2015


the quiet
after an argument—
scraping carrot skin

Frogpond 38:3, Autumn 2015


into the washbasin
my reflection

Chrysanthemum 18, October 2015


on the front door knob
  a housefly

Chrysanthemum 18, October 2015


next to the trail
a tombstone that once was
at the top of the hill

A Hundred Gourds 5.1, December, 2015


long rain—
lost in thought
I grow older

The Heron’s Nest, Volume XVII, Number 4: December 2015


touching the radio
its signal gets better
family attic

The Mainichi, October 16th, 2015


a spider
inside the gun on the wall—
family meeting

Sonic Boom, Anniversary Edition, December, 2015


death anniversary—
a curl of incense smoke
stuck on the ceiling

Haiku Canada Review,  February, 2016


stone cairn—
we talk late into the night
for answers

Akitsu Quarterly #7, Spring, 2016


afternoon calm . . .
a lame crow hobbles
towards the highway

Akitsu Quarterly #7, Spring, 2016


half-closed tulip--
the beautiful words
dangerous to say

A Hundred Gourds 5:2, March 2016


in the eyes of the fish
caught in the net

The Heron’s Nest, Volume XVIII, Number 1: March 2016


the baby
has a name for it
first clear day

Makoto 2:1, April 2016


whale vertebrae
drifting from one god
to another

A Hundred Gourds, 5:3, Final Issue, 2016
Touchstone Individual Poem Award for 2016


snowglobe hopefully I can dance tonight

Brass Bell  May, 2016


distant thunder
we have been both right
all along

Mayfly 61, Summer 2016


deepening dusk . . .
the open umbrella
in a parking lot

Presence #55, July 2016


on the cold floor
Bharat moon

Presence #55, July 2016