This archive contains all haiku written by Tuan Tran to date.
The first fifteen poems appeared on tuantran.org in June 2001. View the original July 23, 2001 archive capture (21 poems) →. Poem 16 was written in 2025. The remaining poems, from 17 to 203 (204 including 98b), were written between May 2026 and now, presented in chronological order.
I have published every poem, without editing or curating, to present the complete work in chronological form. Some poems are intended as instructions rather than haiku. They show the way to enter, not the state of mind as images in haiku.
Last updated: October 7, 2026
Spiderweb, autumn leaves, and bombs falling like raindrops.
Volume I spans twenty-five years. Fifteen poems appeared on this site in 2001; one more came in 2025 — the temple bell poem that reopened the door — and the rest were written in the flood of 2026. Together they carry the whole life in haiku: the war remembered in three lines, the boat, the snowy arrival in America, the retreat where the body dissolved, the forest monastery, and the road home. The story of the first hundred poems is told in the haibun memoir, The Road Home.
Written last year in 2025. The poem that sparked the collection.
Written June 27, 2026 — Companion to Poem 98
I stopped at one hundred because the story felt complete.
The new poems are about the present: the aging body, the changing light, the simple act of paying attention when the storm clouds gather or the peony blooms.
Image: Vietnam's Toxic Legacy, Unreported World, Channel 4.
Used for non-commercial, educational, and artistic purposes. All rights belong to respective owners.
Volumes 1 and 2 were about using the haiku form to write about my experience as a child during the Vietnam War, the boat journey as a refugee, assimilation and identity in America, the first Vipassana retreat where the body dissolved, the forest monastery in Myanmar where I ordained as a novice monk, and the return to Vietnam — using the images of the temple bell, nature, and breath meditation. Starting August 24, 2026, this volume 3 is about haiku using the images of nature to identify a Zen state of mind.
September 20, 2026
The breath awareness recorded in these final poems is the same awareness I found at twelve years old, sitting alone, without instruction and without a name for it. The war took many things, but did not take this. Every technique learned since, every noting, every scanning, was the long way back to that first touch point.
The archive is complete here. Whatever comes next needs no record. Breath awareness at the touching point continues.
Ngày 20 tháng 9 năm 2026
Sự chú ý đến hơi thở ghi lại trong những bài thơ cuối này cũng là sự chú ý tôi tìm thấy năm mười hai tuổi, ngồi một mình, không ai hướng dẫn, cũng chưa gọi tên được. Chiến tranh đã lấy đi nhiều thứ, nhưng không lấy đi điều này. Mọi phép tu học trước đây, mỗi lần ghi nhận, mỗi lần quét, đều chỉ là con đường dài trở về điểm chạm đầu tiên.
Toàn tập dừng lại ở đây. Điều gì đến sau không cần ghi lại nữa. Nhận thức hơi thở tại điểm chạm vẫn tiếp tục.
These poems come from meditation after the archive is closed. It's better to share them than to keep them for myself.
Poems began September 20, 2026. Numbering continues from 190.
All poems © Tuan Tran. All rights reserved.