Saturday, May 1, 2010


they didn't have "a people they belonged to"
so they tried to make their own

Friday, April 30, 2010

last night's dream in words

two black cats, in greeting
flash green eyes at each other
lighting up the forest floor

Thursday, April 29, 2010

the body believes the clothes
when driving, accepts the car as part
of its circumference and status
the hand believes the hammer and the pen
and she thinks her crooked spine
is a part of herself

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

melting pot

he's black African/European
she's Korean/Chinese
their child is going to
reconcile the continents

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

in his penthouse condominium
twenty-one stories up, with the 360 degree view
he had hoped to be lifted
above petty concerns...

Monday, April 26, 2010

place of business

ah, a tasteful new facade
remodel of the sales floor

in the back, where the employees are kept
no pretense--it's peeling paint
torn linoleum, exposed pipes
the truth of cobwebs at the high windows

Sunday, April 25, 2010

more dreams

n center city, an encampment
billowing tents, wildly waving pennants
music of gongs and chimes

the people reverent, participating in rituals
of deep meaning, ancient significance

when the families stopped dancing and the music died
she curled up in her chair and cried,
walked down the street with clenched fists--

all this we gave up for knowledge?
knowledge had better be worth it

Saturday, April 24, 2010

view of the stadium

there they were--men, women
and all gradations in between

Friday, April 23, 2010

at the last

he liked to call up
his employees from his bed
and chew them out

(looks so real, but breathes not)

(the undertaker's masterwork
too beautiful to be interred)

(boxed--a delivery of flowers--
close the lid)


she woke slowly from her dream
and began remembering her world
without dread

Thursday, April 22, 2010


drink coffee at bedtime
have faster dreams all night


surrounded by buildings
she glances often at the sky
with its darting birds
and remembers: earth beneath
the pavement

Wednesday, April 21, 2010


rush of commute traffic
the thump of party music gearing up
the neighbor screaming at her little ones again
ah, a nuthatch calls--it has found our trees

Tuesday, April 20, 2010


he projects himself a story
walks in

indifferent stars?

the stars are not indifferent
just busy

Monday, April 19, 2010

binocular vision

one small eye on each side of the nose
is sufficient
the face opens to the scenery
like a garage door

Sunday, April 18, 2010


(the understory turned
and threw over a city)

melting pot

with kitchen scissors
before the family house
cross-legged on a patch of lawn
the little man, ancient, sits
scissoring the grass

Saturday, April 17, 2010


she waves at her dogs in the window
the dogs wave back with their tails

Friday, April 16, 2010

camellia bloom bursting
out of a spider's web
was the spider surprised!

saved again, by Medicine

eyes, there must be more for you to see
the neighbor's rhododendron about to bloom
our hydrangeas, about to answer

Thursday, April 15, 2010


the sea lay undisturbed--
for days, not a swallow


dark shadow of her former self
lay draped across the floor


night birds' clicks
beeps swishes hums


held to the bed with tubes
over an abyss of fear


happy Easter said the slight man cheerfully
then fretted, are you Christian?

she noticed she could not say no

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

slow recovery

between the impulse and the act
a gulf too wide to bridge--
the hand, reaching for the door knob
stops just short

Tuesday, April 13, 2010


red-wing blackbirds
crowing in the young trees
of the Walmart parking lot
preening themselves to glossy

trip in spring?

But if I leave
I cannot be here now!

Monday, April 12, 2010

Lake Merritt

downtown, among the buildings
blue water has cleared
a wide space for itself and the birds

Sunday, April 11, 2010

housing crisis

the fragrant lumber flowed through town
houses advanced like haze on a pane

as for the northern forests

o carnage, o destruction
the satellite cried, looking down

glancing up from the Safeway parking lot

beneath the daytime moon,
a grapefruit tree with brighter moons
among its clustered leaves

Saturday, April 10, 2010

the ticket

I trusted myself
to notice when the light turned red
but proved un-trust-worthy

Friday, April 9, 2010


on the pane drawn in front of reality
figures appeared spoke their lines, left

she withheld judgment
believed the ones that remained

the moon in the picture, though
never moved

Thursday, April 8, 2010

the medicine, slowly
wrapped the pain in spider silk
hung it like a ball


flat as a leaf, she felt herself blown
through nets of tree roots underground
then whirled into air
somersaulting over houses

Monday, March 29, 2010


the Christmas card from Poland
promptly every year
arrives on March 15

Sunday, March 28, 2010


she lights a match to watch
the tiny fire mountain break,
advance brightly to her hand

Saturday, March 27, 2010

what does he look like
who managed to escape from
every photograph?

Friday, March 26, 2010


every plant I touch
is throwing seeds--such a rush
to live on this earth

Thursday, March 25, 2010

life seems aimless without a pen
days flow by without a mark

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

news from the deck

the wind all day
entangled in chimes

caesura: the pause between winds

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

slow to blow

when the red light changed
he eventually
figured out
what that meant


he didn't know how to begin his own
so he hitched a ride to see
where the army would take him