Posted in Uncategorized, tagged apocalypse, endtimes, haiku, poetry, present, short poem on May 20, 2013| 6 Comments »
don’t blame me
if the apocalypse comes
before I’m done dusting
*
everything
that’s been taken from me
was first given to me
*
how easily we say
these words, next week,
as if it will come
*
why we plant seeds—
because we’ve made a life
out of old tomorrows
*
even though
it’s the thousandth rainbow
still running to look
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged haiku, poem, present, Schumann on May 8, 2013| 2 Comments »
still blooming
that apricot tree in my
rearview mirror
*
playing Schumann
for forty minutes
it’s the only news
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged haiku, poem, short poem, travel on May 2, 2013| 2 Comments »
walking in the room
the dog sniffs the air
where the poem was
*
plastic bubble pipe—
what does this have to do
with infinity?
*
green exit sign—
wishing I could hang it
above my fear
*
empty dish—
the cat never worries
about her figure
*
no atmosphere, no
water, no life, Mars at least
you’re still a planet
*
in large white letters
the highway sign says MARVEL—
I pass going sixty
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged haiku, human nature, loss, poem on April 30, 2013| 2 Comments »
before the rose
has even bloomed, already
lamenting its loss
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged door, fear, haiku, love, poem, poetry on April 28, 2013| 1 Comment »
standing on the stoop
of your heart, too scared
to ring the bell
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged apricot blossom, blossoms, freeze, haiku, orchard, peach blossom, poem on April 17, 2013| 3 Comments »
turning black
all those apricot blooms
I am not thinking of
*
almost pink—
the orchard not the only place
about to bloom
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged haiku, poem, poetry on March 17, 2013| 1 Comment »
throwing open
the heart, surprised to find
another heart
*
six months later
dead is more dead
than before
*
the long road
to you not long
enough
*
cracked by joy
stars leak through my layers
an infinite spilling
*
trapped on barbed wire
the scrap
of a red balloon
*
even leafless
the old cottonwood perfect
in every moment
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged acceptance, emptiness, haiku, openness, poem on March 9, 2013| 2 Comments »
not only the aspen
wear nothing, not only
the sky
*
shoveling
the walk, making a path
for the sun
*
the rose does not try
to re-adhere fallen petals—
still this impulse to fix
*
in the sky, a door,
in the door, a sky, in the
sky a door
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged haiku, highway, poem, surprise on March 6, 2013| 2 Comments »
rhymed in ice
the old cottonwood tree—
an altar for emptiness
*
that rock in the highway—
only the drivers think
it’s out of place
*
elk in the windshield—
taking time to notice
how brown its eyes
*
when I forgot
I was waiting, the flower
opened
Posted in Uncategorized, tagged haiku, interrelatedness, love, poem, sky on February 27, 2013| 2 Comments »
blue so wide
no need to wonder
if we’re connected