I hide
behind the soaped window…
bus driver finds me
☯️
tanka:
Both hands,
snow scooped
to my chest…
through this coat
heat bleeds
☯️
tanka:
I head out
through snow–
spent…
her?
(don’t know)
☯️
Noon piss…
I duck under
that spiderweb
☯️
To lie down
on the moon…
solar wind, eye grit
☯️
tanka:
The squeak
of his teeth
from the back of
his mouth,
from the coffee
☯️
Silence,
two faces part…
still longing
☯️
Early fall…
spiderweb optimist,
tree-to-tree
☯️
Autumn chill…
a few extra scrubs
to my damp hair
☯️
3 p.m….
leaf spirit-dances
on spider strand
☯️
5 p.m….
north-south street sign
waggles in the wind
☯️
Lights,
side-by-side…
what more need we ask?
☯️
The slave
concentrates…
each axe swing
☯️
Two fingers
spread, just cover
her tremble
☯️
tanka:
How many
more ages…
the beetle
I’ll stroke
on my deathbed
☯️
Twin truck pipes
poked over
fence top
☯️
Pink-haired,
she presses the doorbell…
light upstairs
☯️
Tuesday,
breath fogs the urinal…
stainless steel
☯️
Lakeside branch…
one-legged
stands the heron
☯️
Her tide-marsh eyes,
unmoved
by God talk
☯️
Eternity between
cell phone rings…
“Is it me?”
☯️
Lawn banana peel
untouched…
six days
☯️
Trail bike, attic,
waits…
that first cobweb
☯️
Mushy shoe,
seven inches of water…
one ripple
☯️
Crippled pigeon…
green feather ruff,
back of neck
☯️
“Police Line
Do Not Cross”–
a shredded
strip
in the squirrel’s mouth
☯️
