Haiku
the white
dress
slithers along the ground...
a raven's call
leaden
sky...
his Jack-o’-lantern glowing
for the third day
blood moon...
a scream cut off
in the middle
snow flurries...
a tall black homeless man
holding out his hand
long way
home
I tell the secret
to falling snow
dead end alley...
the winter moon
and one howl
a
black boy
in a pool of blood
first snowflakes
dewdrops
on the morning glory
here and now, and yet...
power
outage...
ten thousand stars dancing
in my mind
murmuring
Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?
spring snowfall
for Elizabeth Taylor
(February 27, 1932 – March 23, 2011)
Tanka
a human foot
inside a running shoe
washes ashore...
seagulls squawking
through the winter sky
the Distance
On the look of Death
I ponder...
looking out the attic window
at falling maple leaves
at midnight
I wake and pat at the side
of the bed...
my hand is touched
by the chilly moonlight
the bullet ploughs
through his brain and exits
behind his left ear...
against the attic wall
dusty Angels in America
he who would search
for the pearls in poetry
must dive below...
the editor is just busy
reading between the lines
her face lit
by the glow of images
flickering
across the TV screen—
a half-moon hanging
I am alone
looking out the window
where we sat
to watch the summer moon...
hearing the sound of stars
standing
in the middle of the tracks
facing
an oncoming streetcar—
the sound of falling leaves
alone
one frog after another
emerging
from the sound of water ...
this starless Easter night
she cries out
I'm tired of an ocean
between us—
a pillow away
my love letters scattered
