He parts
the dish towel…
(baby doesn’t move)
☯︎
One bee buzzes
through lotus yellow…
summer chill
☯︎
Snake slips beak…
the crane returns
to the nest
☯︎
Modelo bottle,
flowers it once held…
dry papyrus
☯︎
Backsplash,
muddy water to wheel well…
marbled clouds
☯︎
To an era,
scrubbing our galaxy out
from the inside
☯︎
She feeds the plants…
gentle splashes
from her water bowl
☯︎
The yin-yang,
two ghosts–
one hole punch each
☯︎
Each soul
one flashing square, then not
on the disco ball
☯︎
Reading Handke;
she won’t return my hello…
split cosmos
☯︎
The toilet
burbles when it cares to
(near midnight)
☯︎
Morning heat…
a feather’s shadow
but no bird
☯︎
Lemon soda,
raspberry yogurt…
my mind, quiet
☯︎
Torn sunflower,
the guitar has no strings…
summer grey
☯︎
One bright orange
candy wrapper, ripped…
noon sidewalk
☯︎
Genuine hero
smokes alone by the fire plug…
brokedown movie house
☯︎
I’m losing again…
paperbacks, burst bananas
for the plastic bin
☯︎
My right hand
across my blanket,
to the exclusion
☯︎
The moon and me
getting reacquainted,
5 am
☯︎
tanka:
I’ve lived this life
in red candy wrappers,
blue push-ups…
that “vanilla sky”
was really yogurt
☯︎
Half-remembered,
leaving me to ponder
which half
☯︎
Arms wide; body
borne into the crucifix…
borne into the dove
☯︎
This toilet,
still running…
we’re roommates now
☯︎
Those skinny slats…
risking my bulk
each evening
☯︎
tanka:
Dead Hemingway,
on TV naturally…
feared his soul
should love its freedom
too much in the dark
☯︎
Another month…
four fingers of light, cracked
by shadows
☯︎
We mark them in black,
like teeth from a mouth–
those who have not loved
☯︎
Between cigarettes
he coughs with a seal’s bark
two blocks from sunset
☯︎
Election eve
headlights slide like oil drops
down the trolley lines
☯︎
