My window ticks once
at a brushstroke from the rain
wind keepsakes the rest
☯
But how many friends
can you have, if all you see
fills all that you know?
☯
Banana milk, drunk
years ago, long-dead diner
returns to my tongue
☯
The night crests morning
only my two stinky feet
keep me company
☯
Teakettle whistles,
but it’s in another room
along with my mind
☯
How proud of my words!
…still, the wall’s one missing brick
knows more than I do
☯
I asked him if he’d
ever known someone famous…
still kicking myself
☯
Evening, spongy heat
green and blue lights from that train
through the bamboo grove
☯
“inconsequential”
won’t do for my epitaph
too much stonecutting
☯
In my own heart true
I am a tiny poem
blown across the walk
☯
Crow, so excited
to have found its lime-green fence–
plus a parking sign!
☯
“Excuse me, please” she whines
tossing her perfectly good
pork chops in the trash
☯
From the universe,
to the moon, shining its light
on one tongueless boot
☯
A hand of butter
tossed in a pan, starts to melt
from thumb and knuckles
☯
The old man’s hands
scarred, long ago
pour the afternoon tea
☯
“Will work for $5
an hour, or, spare any change?”
The sign sits alone
