Haiku 2022
the broken willow
split in half by its own weight--
the rich man’s third wife
Mom shops with two kids
not delicate as she looks--
daffodils in snow
Mom hauls infant twins
Not delicate as she looks--
early daffodils
dancing in the wind of March
shrug off a late snow
here should be new buds
a green haze in the bare wood
late of this county
the perfect garden--
as weeds sprout I can pull them
at an equal rate
a row of five box
after the English manner--
now wild geese in flight
that empty feeling
following the procedure--
it’s a fine balance
this mass of cold rock
pulls the garden’s center off--
the balancing pine
Grand Canyon rock
the Colorado river
cutting Earth in two
the mockingbird spreads
lovely misinformation
as too-whoo said what
everyone watching
the mouth of the groundhog’s hole--
coming-out parties
this bead of water
focuses a ray of sun--
short brief and brilliant
the dog with white eyes
unfocused by cataracts
waits by the wheelchair
sun on my face
gives the ultimate solace
after winter dark
come to the robbed nest
having a short memory
the only solace
after such a storm
the pond’s roof of lily pads
taking long to heal
counting your blessings
only fools number the stars--
they keep finding more
flocks that darkened skies
tens of thousands at a guess
shrunk to jealous pairs
migrants leak across--
rivers of two colors join
taking miles to blend
around and around
pigeons banking in the sky
flash back at the sun
(around)
to find a lost nut
a squirrel rustles through the leaves
bare trees stand around
pebbles in a stream
round, not thrown in a long time--
beautiful to hold
falling in would ruin
the floating world reflected
in the old pond
the pointer pup sets
surprising a song sparrow
an obscure artist
kingfisher’s mad laugh
he’s around the bend for sure--
twitcher’s work upstream
days hiding in ruins
then finding with sudden joy
this discarded crust
behind officials
come to speak and cut ribbons--
spring on the mountain
wind-pruned tophamper
cauliflowered stumps remain
where limbs could not bend
the unknown unknown
I did not know I should know
until I saw you
beyond the next turn
must lie a new horizon--
pausing for snow drops
on this hill I find
another beautiful view--
spring a month early
to be like this stone
off center in the garden--
there, really there
waking in winter
to ice sliding down the roof--
summer is a dream
the feel of rising
as the hawk flies over--
so small, it lifts me
which makes that sweet call
the brown bird or the black bird?
just starting to date
never catching one
the dog runs after squirrels--
lottery tickets
wreck of an old mill
where grits were fined by this creek--
roots frost and water
spring peepers trilling
mating season comes early--
students put on shorts
an up-rooted tree
that would not bend with the wind--
removing statues
late snow
daffodils straighten
as it melts
dog fox in the snow
off his feed craving something
then the vixen calls
solitary shy
new cravings overcome her
and she calls for him
this small bright-eyed bird
its spring journey is so long--
how restless I feel
what the robin feels
viewing its despoiled nest
the broken eggshells
high-gloss hardwood floor
smacks my wallet all around--
what a shellacking
just one scrawny cry
after they shelled pediatrics--
a nurse in mittens
pre-shelled frozen shrimp
so you know they’re the real thing
they leave on the tails
not a finch or thrush
not like one bird in the book--
still it seems content
chasing out bluebirds
every knot-hole has its wren
each wren, the same song
cock-bird in the bush
calls and calls that this is his--
home from my travels
piccolo to drum
all at once each voice stands out--
the birds’ morning calls
half all bird watching
I do best with my eyes shut--
learning to listen
poet in winter
you remember when you learned--
no one’s listening
the breeze turns a page
my attention has wandered
gone north with robins
even while still small
children make an impression--
snow angels
flitting twig-to-twig
the chickadee can’t decide
which is its favorite
the mouse made no move
betrayed by its beating heart
to the owl’s ear
the great horned owl
comes on the brooding eagle
asleep silently
in age I recall
how beautiful you have been
the sheet of your hair--
surprised awake you ask me
if I remembered my pills
osprey builds their nest
though two thousand miles away--
she will be there
everywhere I look
something bigger than myself--
in the sky a swift
hearing gunfire
she grasped her cane more tightly
ready to fight back
for Pramila Jayapal
by the frozen stream
a fox runs into the brush--
patchy snow bright moss
sparrows in the bush
a passing cloud of blackbirds
does not interest them
scarecrow’s empty suit--
my shadow’s arms reach for me
and I reach back now
waking from our dream
we find the moon smiling back--
a rooster somewhere
claims the morning for his own
but the night we hold as ours
Haiku from 2019
Conflict Senryu
a man with one leg
hopping along with a stick
to distant gunfire
now clear saliva
in a frozen stream is all
binding him to earth
hailstones in their hair
spring clatters to the ground
around shoeless feet
rockets smear star dust
and the moon swallows the stars--
the dead drink moon light
when the rockets stop
frost brightens children’s remains
in the roofless school
a man shifts rubble
looking for his lost children
by crescent moonlight
twisted crucifix
half under the collapsed wall
forever dying
where a mine blew up
Bible, Torah or Koran
you can’t really say
giving charity
at the end of Ramadan
a sheep blown in three*
(*At the end of Ramadan, it is the custom to divide a sheep in three; keeping one part, sharing one with friends, and giving one part to the poor.)
while spent shells leak gas
winter rain washes the air
and from the bricks—blood
balancing the moon
on a tip of dead cedar--
bare twigs crescent moon
as trucks dump their loads
the Mediterranean
spews up on the beach
the last few cedars
of Lebanon dying in
their hundredth dry year
Black Tax Senryu
all rise, smiling
except the kid slumped forward--
the officer walked
they’re worn at all times
but they do get blocked a lot
these new body-cams
still thick- limbed and strong
the old lynching- tree is oak--
everyone walks past
Navidad noche
She nurses infant Jesús
Her breast through the cage
Mental Health Senryu
will he take a dump
or his medicine today--
which sort of bliss?
the real problem is
it all comes into focus
at his craziest
discharged, a fresh launch
a bird chased by a hawk
hoping for a controlled crash
through the window
the well-dressed Christmas tree
and trees nearly bare
once she gets started
skating fast over thin ice
she’s afraid to stop
ABC
the flying carpet
starlings—the sound of their wings
a murmuration
dawdling outside court
awful inevitable--
he will see his wife
a winter towhee
come south for this snow
snow-bird vacation
after the fox goes
grumpy hens shaking off rain
get back to business
with her last dollar
scratch-off ticket to a dream
she can't envision [DD1]
impatient for spring
barefoot daffodils stand in snow
try to rise above
winter daffodil
out-facing the last snow banks--
she goes back to school
thoughts fly about me--
pigeons land on a statue
some lite on its hat
the widower in winter--
climbing into a cold bed
still with two pillows
the drafty door
November in its third month
not worth patching now
twigs at the window
where house plants sit in their pots
tap panes nervously
light of gold
stone of bone
and a cup of night
luce d'oro
pietra d'ossa e
una tazza di notte
squinting in the gold
leaning on stone like old bone
and a cup of night
you point out to me
a heart-shaped patch in the bark
where the beaver chewed
The weeping willow
Leafless bears a single crow--
West wind sways them both
Necrotic leaves fall
The smell of a nursing home
And shortening days
Gold dust on the breeze
Gilds the patio table
And her rosy nose
Wide-bodied lap-top
An American short-hair--
The old man's love-life
Thunder's barking laugh
Something with a voice that deep
Dancing in the rain
Nothing tastes so sweet
Honey from a stolen hive
Or smarts so sharply
Together with all
The love letters and hate mail
This white peony
barefoot and laughing
they pull peaches from the trees
by the nursing home
As if every leaf
On one of fall's brittle days
Could suddenly quit
Jumping on the ice
to prove his faith in its strength--
Total immersion
hanging by his toes
the squirrel bites off a bud
maple syrup flows
earlier sap-flow
from fewer sugar maples
climate change boils down
diligent shovels
snow mounds that never turn black
life in the suburbs
Tears saltwater tears
And the ocean behind me
Runs down the moon's face
Our story should be told but
That should take place in a boat
The requiem plays
Music that strikes the deepest--
The chord of pity
Pendulum cutting
Time into useful pieces--
Silks of the new year
Sitting by the pond
In search of inspiration--
Life in the shallows
Out the rear window
Summer's shore and white herons
Stand pillars of salt
From jungle carpet
A jumpard lands in my lap
Victoriously
Venus stern thru trees
From a racing car blinking
Morse code for firefly
Mint borne on the wind
Breathed on out-going tide--
A message from town
the forest fire seems
nothing but smoke overwhelmed
by sunlight
With the fall of night
The forest burns without smoke
Just cigarette cough
I don’t remember
our vacation in Venice--
I won’t tell my wife
an old-fashioned hat
a florist shop harvested--
he brings her one rose
everyone can hear
the cicadas mad congress
becoming normal
raised by a great crane
a dead whale full of plastic
rises to haunt us
clouds bright cutlery
flashes before the first cut--
I take in the wash
Brushing humid air
As if it were hanging moss--
The heron scares off
Easily assumed
A roaming gaggle of geese
A home they have never seen
Weary wing-tips down
A formation of wild geese
Glides glides in toward splash-down
multi-colored flame
springs up un-thriftily hot
in first-crocus form
Felty weather drips
On the fox's bare-twigged wood
Silencing the leaves
Slashing through puddles
The evening of a dark night
One head-light goes dead
Puddled on the earth
The moon reflects on itself
Straight up toward the stars
Frost white on the lawn
Breaking the promise of spring
Just one lousy beer
fallen butterflies
on cemetery flowers--
bittersweet and summer snow
still thick- limbed and strong--
by the bare lynching-tree
I hang my head
Brushing humid air
As if it were hanging moss--
The heron scares off
they look at our pond
wandering deltas of geese
as if it were home
Resisting the spring
That last frozen chunk of snow--
Marriage counseling
on a spider's strand
the captured butterfly waves--
used-car-lot pennants
frost white on the lawn
breaking the promise of spring--
just one lousy beer
spicebush and redbud--
by the haze of buds waking
a bulldozer rests
thoughts land in my head
pigeons land on a statue
some land on its hat
the winter widow
she climbs into a cold bed
with still two pillows
a heart and arrow
throwing heat for all to feel
in unblemished snow
splashes of starlings
lap among cornfield stubble--
springs early tidings
Tulips with wet lips
Practice kissing rain drops
Till they shatter
known among frogs
for his beautiful voice
and among herons
filling the cat's grave--
an embarrassing tear drops
in with the tulips
with tulips in bloom
though I take off my glasses
I can't shut my eyes
through a mist of buds
waking spice bush and redbud
a bulldozer rests
the cat finally died
the computer's on the fritz--
rain on the tulips
A key on the string
Of a rag- tailed kite unlocks
Lightning to the earth
Tugging its bridle
String two sticks paper and glue--
Diamond in the sky
Doing a leaf- roll
Into the lost horizon
When the kite's string breaks
The third time this week
He gathers coins together
To buy a new kite
a boy named Euclid
his instructions blow away
building a box kite
full- rigged clouds
making way out of sunset
toward night
city streets at dawn
a single car buzzes through--
a first bee starts work
the gulp of a pond
as it swallows a frog whole--
old tales in new ears
in a great drizzle
with wonderful mosquitoes--
frog’s mating season
readying for rain
one shoulder hunched to the wind
the oak stands its ground
a starving monk
cooking one grain of rice
really really well
the White House turns grey
as the smooth Potomac flows
past cherry blossoms
at the catbird’s call
slowly peonies explode
widening my eyes
snow turns a blank page
on all the gravestone tablets
clean at stories' end
the gulp of the pond
as it swallows a frog whole–
congregation rise
flowers' shadows dance
until the candle burns out--
now I sleep alone
With cat and lap-rug
Rain wrapping the windows round--
Then those on cardboard
Crushed green velvet sprigged
With aster and Queen Ann's lace
edged poison hemlock
a house wrapped in rain
shelters under its own roof--
windows and doors closed
praying pilgrims
fail to notice
the cherry above
hoping down-slope
the goat's clever-footed kid--
she explains the math
though snow hides landmarks
even my shoes know the way
to this low stone
One by one the hawk
Will lose all his feathers--
I grow through my hair
Drought- stressed plants stretch up
To receive dew wrung from air
My shoes are wet
Wood-ears it seems
The whole forest is listening
For autumn's first leaves
Feathers ruffled
To hide all the little ones--
Hen-of-the-woods
Unconscionable--
He can't handle anything
The man with no arms
Winter's acid reflux
Salted to slush and plowed black
A hardy bird sings
tinnitus
the only known cure
cicadas
Hollow stump
Its first half century gone
A small toad jumps in
At Chickamauga
Quaker cannons Grant deployed--
They just would not fight
Peckerwood
He ain't called that for nothing--
Not to his face
All that stirs the air
Is rattling cicadas
And me swatting gnats
Feather on the trail
A wind among yellow leaves
with birds on its breath
Chicken of the Woods
Perching on an fallen log
Awaiting autumn
Wooden roof long gone
Stone walls stand testimony--
Their butter stayed cold
A cup of coffee
tasting of chicory-blue
Sky-drops in the grass
in ruffled display
perching on a fallen log
chicken of the woods
One forest giant
Takes down another in turn--
Investing in banks
Morning's first hiker
Breaking cob-webs treading dew
First dead cicada
There's one cicada
In all the buzz and rattle
That just can't keep time
On green tomatoes
Racing to red against frost
The dead swallowtail
It seems over-night
Pokeweed changed to ink berry
On a steeper hill
Seen forest bathing
A butterfly on dog- shit
And I perspire
As I quicken pace
Caterpillars cross the path
On other business
Removed from his tomb
The ruby and diamond crown
Shows how great he was
From the white mushroom
All the light of the forest--
Her just-grown-up face
A hen of the woods--
Everyone comes to full stop.
A pet shop window
plump and plentiful
green figs too late to ripen
but maybe next year
The morning's cobwebs
Catch me across the face
I thrash my way free
dropping a pebble
into a well
no response at all
Drought- stressed plants stretch up
To receive dew wrung from air
Come--wet a shoe
His eye drops from hers--
A slow-deflating balloon
In the sudden chill
Glass time has rippled
The silver starting to go--
glimpsing the future
Coming storm's rumor
Breezy whispers from curtains
The moon hides its face
A seated statue
Face upward toward the clear sky--
Roman holiday
Washed clean as two fish
Herod's hands in the painting--
Tales told at meeting
New Year's tides gurgle
through New Orleans' sewers--
At their lowest ebb
in a field of weeds
one breath scatters milkweed seeds--
all bear the same wish
Red red the rose hips
Purple porcelain berry
Food for birds not deer
Breathing in crisp stars
Light through the curtained storm door
Shut in forgotten
a part of himself
he gives no thought to the weight
the snail's spiral shell
at a warm day’s end
the sun dissolves in the sea--
honey in a spoon
the sea to the moon
offers a distant mirror
to reflect upon
the long dry spell ends
drip rings on the darkened pond--
and one in my face
tapestries of leaves
drop into carpets weaving
on the forest floor
In the old stump hole
About a century's worth
An acorn sprouts
Wasted afternoon--
Every few minutes he stops
To write down senryu
feet tangled in sheets
from changing my socks all night--
dawn solves one problem
goats nibble within
a corner of palace wall
where queens kept peacocks
shed with ten push-ups
lap robe, sweatshirt, sweater, cap--
the weight of my years
a rich man’s hobby--
walking through the glass houses
I don’t dare throw stones
Leaves after first frost
Colors revealed in dying
Earn maples their place
to welcome the bees
lilac leans into the lane
and comes upon us
Abandoning hope
I noticed the snowdrop there
Come up by my foot
a long-haul trucker
driving to visit his mom
on his weekend off
Found by their shadows
A school of mud-backed minnies
Flash a silver side
shopping cart
burdened with his possessions
never enough
A life full of stuff
Lived out of a shopping cart--
Crows lead them to him
a bird's shadow lights
on a bare tree’s shadow branch--
my hand's shadow's touch
she alone recalls
and rain washes it away--
birds cross her shadow
A sunflower field
Follows its course through the sky--
Echoing the sun
the desert echoes
sunlight back into the sky
from its rocky floor
explaining Santa
to Indian visitors
he ends with Yeah, well…
the transvestite’s dance
at their wedding will bring them
felicity
arrested again
for feeding the damn homeless--
led away smiling
flip to December--
mass shootings outnumber
days in the year
fifty years married
still trying to make it work
still one bride’s maid left
low green water
where the pond used to be fresh
channels stilted-up
library dwellers
a swellng chill in the air
at their winter roost
no snoring
down in Periodicals--
Free Library rules
the problem solved--
homelessness made illegal
and global warming
fighting the school tax--
a waste of money because
their children are grown
the bright boy
with a brilliant friend
slams his book shut
the endless hostess
at the party of her life
with her tray of treats
New Year’s Eve streamers—old wishes new promises—flash across the screen
blood red camellia
against the white dish it glows --
the bud draws the eye
[DD1]
Conflict Senryu
a man with one leg
hopping along with a stick
to distant gunfire
now clear saliva
in a frozen stream is all
binding him to earth
hailstones in their hair
spring clatters to the ground
around shoeless feet
rockets smear star dust
and the moon swallows the stars--
the dead drink moon light
when the rockets stop
frost brightens children’s remains
in the roofless school
a man shifts rubble
looking for his lost children
by crescent moonlight
twisted crucifix
half under the collapsed wall
forever dying
where a mine blew up
Bible, Torah or Koran
you can’t really say
giving charity
at the end of Ramadan
a sheep blown in three*
(*At the end of Ramadan, it is the custom to divide a sheep in three; keeping one part, sharing one with friends, and giving one part to the poor.)
while spent shells leak gas
winter rain washes the air
and from the bricks—blood
balancing the moon
on a tip of dead cedar--
bare twigs crescent moon
as trucks dump their loads
the Mediterranean
spews up on the beach
the last few cedars
of Lebanon dying in
their hundredth dry year
Black Tax Senryu
all rise, smiling
except the kid slumped forward--
the officer walked
they’re worn at all times
but they do get blocked a lot
these new body-cams
still thick- limbed and strong
the old lynching- tree is oak--
everyone walks past
Navidad noche
She nurses infant Jesús
Her breast through the cage
Mental Health Senryu
will he take a dump
or his medicine today--
which sort of bliss?
the real problem is
it all comes into focus
at his craziest
discharged, a fresh launch
a bird chased by a hawk
hoping for a controlled crash
through the window
the well-dressed Christmas tree
and trees nearly bare
once she gets started
skating fast over thin ice
she’s afraid to stop
ABC
the flying carpet
starlings—the sound of their wings
a murmuration
dawdling outside court
awful inevitable--
he will see his wife
a winter towhee
come south for this snow
snow-bird vacation
after the fox goes
grumpy hens shaking off rain
get back to business
with her last dollar
scratch-off ticket to a dream
she can't envision [DD1]
impatient for spring
barefoot daffodils stand in snow
try to rise above
winter daffodil
out-facing the last snow banks--
she goes back to school
thoughts fly about me--
pigeons land on a statue
some lite on its hat
the widower in winter--
climbing into a cold bed
still with two pillows
the drafty door
November in its third month
not worth patching now
twigs at the window
where house plants sit in their pots
tap panes nervously
light of gold
stone of bone
and a cup of night
luce d'oro
pietra d'ossa e
una tazza di notte
squinting in the gold
leaning on stone like old bone
and a cup of night
you point out to me
a heart-shaped patch in the bark
where the beaver chewed
The weeping willow
Leafless bears a single crow--
West wind sways them both
Necrotic leaves fall
The smell of a nursing home
And shortening days
Gold dust on the breeze
Gilds the patio table
And her rosy nose
Wide-bodied lap-top
An American short-hair--
The old man's love-life
Thunder's barking laugh
Something with a voice that deep
Dancing in the rain
Nothing tastes so sweet
Honey from a stolen hive
Or smarts so sharply
Together with all
The love letters and hate mail
This white peony
barefoot and laughing
they pull peaches from the trees
by the nursing home
As if every leaf
On one of fall's brittle days
Could suddenly quit
Jumping on the ice
to prove his faith in its strength--
Total immersion
hanging by his toes
the squirrel bites off a bud
maple syrup flows
earlier sap-flow
from fewer sugar maples
climate change boils down
diligent shovels
snow mounds that never turn black
life in the suburbs
Tears saltwater tears
And the ocean behind me
Runs down the moon's face
Our story should be told but
That should take place in a boat
The requiem plays
Music that strikes the deepest--
The chord of pity
Pendulum cutting
Time into useful pieces--
Silks of the new year
Sitting by the pond
In search of inspiration--
Life in the shallows
Out the rear window
Summer's shore and white herons
Stand pillars of salt
From jungle carpet
A jumpard lands in my lap
Victoriously
Venus stern thru trees
From a racing car blinking
Morse code for firefly
Mint borne on the wind
Breathed on out-going tide--
A message from town
the forest fire seems
nothing but smoke overwhelmed
by sunlight
With the fall of night
The forest burns without smoke
Just cigarette cough
I don’t remember
our vacation in Venice--
I won’t tell my wife
an old-fashioned hat
a florist shop harvested--
he brings her one rose
everyone can hear
the cicadas mad congress
becoming normal
raised by a great crane
a dead whale full of plastic
rises to haunt us
clouds bright cutlery
flashes before the first cut--
I take in the wash
Brushing humid air
As if it were hanging moss--
The heron scares off
Easily assumed
A roaming gaggle of geese
A home they have never seen
Weary wing-tips down
A formation of wild geese
Glides glides in toward splash-down
multi-colored flame
springs up un-thriftily hot
in first-crocus form
Felty weather drips
On the fox's bare-twigged wood
Silencing the leaves
Slashing through puddles
The evening of a dark night
One head-light goes dead
Puddled on the earth
The moon reflects on itself
Straight up toward the stars
Frost white on the lawn
Breaking the promise of spring
Just one lousy beer
fallen butterflies
on cemetery flowers--
bittersweet and summer snow
still thick- limbed and strong--
by the bare lynching-tree
I hang my head
Brushing humid air
As if it were hanging moss--
The heron scares off
they look at our pond
wandering deltas of geese
as if it were home
Resisting the spring
That last frozen chunk of snow--
Marriage counseling
on a spider's strand
the captured butterfly waves--
used-car-lot pennants
frost white on the lawn
breaking the promise of spring--
just one lousy beer
spicebush and redbud--
by the haze of buds waking
a bulldozer rests
thoughts land in my head
pigeons land on a statue
some land on its hat
the winter widow
she climbs into a cold bed
with still two pillows
a heart and arrow
throwing heat for all to feel
in unblemished snow
splashes of starlings
lap among cornfield stubble--
springs early tidings
Tulips with wet lips
Practice kissing rain drops
Till they shatter
known among frogs
for his beautiful voice
and among herons
filling the cat's grave--
an embarrassing tear drops
in with the tulips
with tulips in bloom
though I take off my glasses
I can't shut my eyes
through a mist of buds
waking spice bush and redbud
a bulldozer rests
the cat finally died
the computer's on the fritz--
rain on the tulips
A key on the string
Of a rag- tailed kite unlocks
Lightning to the earth
Tugging its bridle
String two sticks paper and glue--
Diamond in the sky
Doing a leaf- roll
Into the lost horizon
When the kite's string breaks
The third time this week
He gathers coins together
To buy a new kite
a boy named Euclid
his instructions blow away
building a box kite
full- rigged clouds
making way out of sunset
toward night
city streets at dawn
a single car buzzes through--
a first bee starts work
the gulp of a pond
as it swallows a frog whole--
old tales in new ears
in a great drizzle
with wonderful mosquitoes--
frog’s mating season
readying for rain
one shoulder hunched to the wind
the oak stands its ground
a starving monk
cooking one grain of rice
really really well
the White House turns grey
as the smooth Potomac flows
past cherry blossoms
at the catbird’s call
slowly peonies explode
widening my eyes
snow turns a blank page
on all the gravestone tablets
clean at stories' end
the gulp of the pond
as it swallows a frog whole–
congregation rise
flowers' shadows dance
until the candle burns out--
now I sleep alone
With cat and lap-rug
Rain wrapping the windows round--
Then those on cardboard
Crushed green velvet sprigged
With aster and Queen Ann's lace
edged poison hemlock
a house wrapped in rain
shelters under its own roof--
windows and doors closed
praying pilgrims
fail to notice
the cherry above
hoping down-slope
the goat's clever-footed kid--
she explains the math
though snow hides landmarks
even my shoes know the way
to this low stone
One by one the hawk
Will lose all his feathers--
I grow through my hair
Drought- stressed plants stretch up
To receive dew wrung from air
My shoes are wet
Wood-ears it seems
The whole forest is listening
For autumn's first leaves
Feathers ruffled
To hide all the little ones--
Hen-of-the-woods
Unconscionable--
He can't handle anything
The man with no arms
Winter's acid reflux
Salted to slush and plowed black
A hardy bird sings
tinnitus
the only known cure
cicadas
Hollow stump
Its first half century gone
A small toad jumps in
At Chickamauga
Quaker cannons Grant deployed--
They just would not fight
Peckerwood
He ain't called that for nothing--
Not to his face
All that stirs the air
Is rattling cicadas
And me swatting gnats
Feather on the trail
A wind among yellow leaves
with birds on its breath
Chicken of the Woods
Perching on an fallen log
Awaiting autumn
Wooden roof long gone
Stone walls stand testimony--
Their butter stayed cold
A cup of coffee
tasting of chicory-blue
Sky-drops in the grass
in ruffled display
perching on a fallen log
chicken of the woods
One forest giant
Takes down another in turn--
Investing in banks
Morning's first hiker
Breaking cob-webs treading dew
First dead cicada
There's one cicada
In all the buzz and rattle
That just can't keep time
On green tomatoes
Racing to red against frost
The dead swallowtail
It seems over-night
Pokeweed changed to ink berry
On a steeper hill
Seen forest bathing
A butterfly on dog- shit
And I perspire
As I quicken pace
Caterpillars cross the path
On other business
Removed from his tomb
The ruby and diamond crown
Shows how great he was
From the white mushroom
All the light of the forest--
Her just-grown-up face
A hen of the woods--
Everyone comes to full stop.
A pet shop window
plump and plentiful
green figs too late to ripen
but maybe next year
The morning's cobwebs
Catch me across the face
I thrash my way free
dropping a pebble
into a well
no response at all
Drought- stressed plants stretch up
To receive dew wrung from air
Come--wet a shoe
His eye drops from hers--
A slow-deflating balloon
In the sudden chill
Glass time has rippled
The silver starting to go--
glimpsing the future
Coming storm's rumor
Breezy whispers from curtains
The moon hides its face
A seated statue
Face upward toward the clear sky--
Roman holiday
Washed clean as two fish
Herod's hands in the painting--
Tales told at meeting
New Year's tides gurgle
through New Orleans' sewers--
At their lowest ebb
in a field of weeds
one breath scatters milkweed seeds--
all bear the same wish
Red red the rose hips
Purple porcelain berry
Food for birds not deer
Breathing in crisp stars
Light through the curtained storm door
Shut in forgotten
a part of himself
he gives no thought to the weight
the snail's spiral shell
at a warm day’s end
the sun dissolves in the sea--
honey in a spoon
the sea to the moon
offers a distant mirror
to reflect upon
the long dry spell ends
drip rings on the darkened pond--
and one in my face
tapestries of leaves
drop into carpets weaving
on the forest floor
In the old stump hole
About a century's worth
An acorn sprouts
Wasted afternoon--
Every few minutes he stops
To write down senryu
feet tangled in sheets
from changing my socks all night--
dawn solves one problem
goats nibble within
a corner of palace wall
where queens kept peacocks
shed with ten push-ups
lap robe, sweatshirt, sweater, cap--
the weight of my years
a rich man’s hobby--
walking through the glass houses
I don’t dare throw stones
Leaves after first frost
Colors revealed in dying
Earn maples their place
to welcome the bees
lilac leans into the lane
and comes upon us
Abandoning hope
I noticed the snowdrop there
Come up by my foot
a long-haul trucker
driving to visit his mom
on his weekend off
Found by their shadows
A school of mud-backed minnies
Flash a silver side
shopping cart
burdened with his possessions
never enough
A life full of stuff
Lived out of a shopping cart--
Crows lead them to him
a bird's shadow lights
on a bare tree’s shadow branch--
my hand's shadow's touch
she alone recalls
and rain washes it away--
birds cross her shadow
A sunflower field
Follows its course through the sky--
Echoing the sun
the desert echoes
sunlight back into the sky
from its rocky floor
explaining Santa
to Indian visitors
he ends with Yeah, well…
the transvestite’s dance
at their wedding will bring them
felicity
arrested again
for feeding the damn homeless--
led away smiling
flip to December--
mass shootings outnumber
days in the year
fifty years married
still trying to make it work
still one bride’s maid left
low green water
where the pond used to be fresh
channels stilted-up
library dwellers
a swellng chill in the air
at their winter roost
no snoring
down in Periodicals--
Free Library rules
the problem solved--
homelessness made illegal
and global warming
fighting the school tax--
a waste of money because
their children are grown
the bright boy
with a brilliant friend
slams his book shut
the endless hostess
at the party of her life
with her tray of treats
New Year’s Eve streamers—old wishes new promises—flash across the screen
blood red camellia
against the white dish it glows --
the bud draws the eye
[DD1]