Sitting under
the same moon as Basho—
Different pond, different sound
Sitting under
the same moon as Basho—
Different pond, different sound
An empty room
hangers rattle in the closet–
Breeze through the window
America’s destiny
stalled in parched oases
stripped, scarred, sacrilegious
Against the flat road,
the horizon, stacked lines–
Clouds puff up their chests
A summer sun in winter–
life too soon to the Lazarus still life
A sudden headlight
my heartbeat in my throat–
Shuffle in darkness
A squirrel jumps out,
swinging from the tree branch, ah–
dark clouds to the West
A song whistled by
a passing shadow– What was that tune?
Quickly, before the bus
A Manet sunset,
spring whispering in the clouds,
through stray rain drops
A fallen branch tumbling in the grass black arms in silvery moonlight
A deserted path– Rare silence for wandering in a burgeoning world
A cold spring morning
huddled in a worn-out coat–
The trees don’t shiver
At the end when we understand–
October wind
As a child I didn’t wear shoes and walked everywhere–
As an adult, I cut my foot on the grass
Daydreaming,
then stamping my feet–
stay present!
Concealed in our bed our sacred utterances–
Frost on the window
Empty pond,
Sitting without time–
Blue heron
close the gates
hoisting the scarecrow
dark autumn
cafe hearing laughing
staring at an empty cup–
stories and echoes
Brown string tied to a pressed autumn leaf–
forget-me-not.
Breathing is an art
and the chair’s empty stillness
is perfection
Empty bed hallway floor creaking–
Curtains sway
Each year a lifetime,
each self a silvery thought–
Who wears those shoes next?
Ducks on the sidewalk–
waddling pedestrians
bagel crumbs and honks
Far from Buddha–
drinking coffee, sunrise,
trying not to try
Failure’s kiss–
a lover we often call
and can never escape
Everyday waders,
terrified and mystified
by the deep beyond
dreams postponed
sunrise blue hallways
cold wood floor
Dreams are egrets–
mysterious, majestic forgotten after flight
Deep in the night
a siren’s wail stirs the cat–
walls soaked in red light
December rain–
Trees mottled with unfallen leaves,
anxious, waiting to sleep
Ignore the smell
fresh coffee in the kitchen–
Sit and breathe
Grey, decaying man
folded into his hat on
a wooded park bench
Flat plastic bottles
cartwheels in the breeze of
delivery trucks
I’ve spent a lifetime
preparing to blow out the candle–
but please, not yet.
I found a bird’s nest
sitting sideways in the snow–
Walking to the train
I am all the things
that I’ll never be–
and I can’t get up
Love dispels hate–
But neither is truly vanquished
Living by clocks,
calls, calendars, coffee–
a bird hops by in dawn’s light
Into the desert
Sun and heat, our creators
also take from us
He gave me nothing
but to be his child swaddled forever in shame
Into the dark hole
shelter from an angry storm–
The frightened rabbit
In snow, muffled footsteps,
the chickadee puffed, perverse,
complaints to me
In every morning
the swollen promise of hope–
The mind’s dayflower
In a vase
a white flower wilts–
winter clouds
Notes from old friends
imaging lives lived far away–
the cat stretches
Not speaking
our aimless bodies circling
Drastic yearning lost
No new possessions will fill the hole
calm raging rivers cure or complete–
breathe and see the road ahead smile
No drama, madam,
but my tea is so cold and
your voice is so loud
Never comforted,
they ache for meaningfulness–-
Steeled and graying oaks
Praying to a bowl,
cross-legged and bowing down–
but who is listening?