Layers (122)

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)


today is today;

only, today’s different:

today, I am here.

(September 11, 2020)


from a work in progress: process, not a journey (51)

as it falls

from a nearby tree

a leaf twirls

in the wind

like a whirligig

until it drops


in the lazy creek

to spin away


except for me

(April 15, 2020)

Drama-Drama Mama Gets Dramatic Instead of Writing a Poem

they said, then she said, and can you believe 

it that this happened, then that happened too,

and I said that she should say, but then she 

went and said that this was just way too much 

to stand, much less believe like Santa Claus;

I am so upset that I stabbed myself

with my pen, and wondered if I would die:

but first answer me this: “if you’re tattooed

on your lip, do you have to hold the lip

the whole time, or do they do that for you?”

as she stared into space holding her lip 

lost in the quandaries of everything 

not involved with the task which was right there,                                                

and not there like an answered Zen koan.

(February 28, 2020)

nothing much

from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (19)

Cashel, Co. Tipperary

several years ago

for several years

nothing came to entrance me

more specifically

doors entranced me

the emptiness of doors

the simple lack of existence

led me further to rooms

and bowls cups and spoons

it wasn’t the rooms the doors

the bowls cups or spoons

but the pure embedded absence

nothing was useful

nothing was transcendent

the absence the lack the emptiness

(January 25, 2020)

the floating world

from a work in progress: “process, not a journey” (15)

from the upstairs window

the grey cat waits

and watches shadows

shift like dark flowers

dance in morning light

(January 21, 2020)

80 MPH Commute

In the air, starlings

pulse between chaotic winds.

Quickly, cars rage past.

(December 19, 2019)


My mind’s blank again;

the mirror reflects the room:

Another Haiku!

(October 30, 2019)


I put on my socks.

The sun slides across the sky.

I take off my socks.

(October 15, 2019)

Up Before Dawn

The house’s silence

echoes the darkness outside.

A wind chime rings once.

(October 8, 2019)