by
the cat slept all day
turned tightly into herself
a sublime wisdom
snow begins to fall
silencing the day’s hard sleet
the night grows colder
ice brightens the moon
along the bare branches’ backs
like a hot whip’s snap
by morning the snow
drapes the yard as if with light
the chimes slowly sound
a lone mockingbird chirrups
inside the house the cat waits
(February 18, 2021)
four haiku with a tanka couplet
her nightgown slips
past her hips
as she steps toward him
*
her skin cool
beneath the sheets
simmers at his touch
*
a fan rattles
over tangled sheets;
cicada pulse the heat outside.
*
she wakes before dawn,
and slips from bed,
leaving him alone
*
like rain in drought, we
desire what remains
(July 8, 2019)
Blood spatter slurs
on wet tile:
rorschach blots
without interpretations
(June 29, 2019)
–high of 107 at 5pm
a dragonfly hovers
above a grass blade
the cat sleeps beneath
the wilting flowers
cicadas pulse
the periphery
(July 23, 2018)
The tree grabs the light tight
against its lithe branches,
a quick embrace, then release
into the slow evening air,
like a child running to her mother,
hugging her in affirmation,
then dancing away in delight.
(May 10, 2018)
Like pockets of rocks poets
carry with them into the lake,
I think of you again, and drown.
(April 9, 2018)
after Rexroth’s translations
In the empty classroom,
I hear the girls laugh
down the hallway.
I think of you,
who is not here.
*
early march morning
spring whispers
on the tree’s edges—
redbud, mountain laurel,
ornamental pear
*
as memory
a mist hangs above the creek
out behind the house.
by noon, it is gone.
(March 6, 2018)
subtext 