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about that fellow taking
the shutter cord for his toy.
☯
I could write haiku
about the suspense thrumming
as I breathe deeply.
☯
Right now I think
only of the two donuts
awaiting me, soon…
☯
The nurse guides a man
on the phone; he’s gotten lost
and have not we all?
☯
I had to hear them
squabbling over violence, to
appreciate peace.
☯
One mustn’t assume
sadness, from the downturned face
or the pleading hands
☯
Front yard: Stalks poke up
struggling past the edges of
two small stiff green boots.
☯
I can’t name the tree
but its small bright blue blossoms
etch the alleyway
☯
A car beeps once
in this cool grey morning
is anyone aboard?
☯
8:10 pm, stuck
with this guitar I can’t sell;
sunshine and splatter.
☯
Nude by the window
again; seventh-floor breezes
cool on my left flank.
☯
A question, he has,
on the bus, but a Mohawk
too; so, no answer.
☯
A break in the rain
gardener’s impatient rake
pulls the still-moist leaves.
☯
The sound of a smile
yes, it’s a little bit like
soup spooned from the bowl
☯
The bum’s sundered face
telephone in hand; sad news;
he crimps a new smoke.
