The downtown beggar
died last week; a reminder
to cherish mint leaves.
☯
Regular waves in
successive spikes, a thin stream
ending at the drain.
☯
Car horn from below,
“Shave and a haircut, six bits,”
staccato, then out.
☯
Light at my old work
goes out, the very instant
my night bus rolls past.
☯
3:05 pm,
crescent moon, halfway hidden,
scudding eastward clouds.
☯
Spring blossoms fallen,
lone crow stabs at prickly fruit
flies away uphill
☯
But what of dust mites
exhaling under my bed–
have they enough space?
☯
Sprinter snaps the tape
but no crowd cheers victory;
drained, still stadium.
☯
Set down on the rocks,
gutter runoff spills beachward
to salty mother.
☯
I remember how
death is life, but it’s that “death”
heavy in this night.
☯
He pays his extra
quarter and the bus whines, soft,
baby out of breath.
☯
Black rooster, red comb
beak high–how he must adore
the thick-limbed maple
☯
Live cat on his back
humped dead possum for a hat,
making friends downtown
☯
Cherry blossom storm
pink blots in a circle dance,
stalled green truck.
☯
Unwritten haiku,
I have stalked you through downtown…
then the sun came out.
