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Posts Tagged ‘tanka’

Three Escapes

for years
I have tried to lock
you out
not seeing that instead
I locked myself in

*

mom, he says,
do you ever think how great
it would be
to become water
going everywhere

*

standing
in the sunflowers
my whole body
practices
being sunflower

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Ripe

purple handed
after mulberry picking—
imagine if
all pleasures
came with stain

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Six Blurrings

which
is
which
my hand
your heart

*

last year’s snow
rushes through
the valley—
some lonelinesses
can not be quenched

*

what is
the one
that notices
the one who thinks
she feels lonely?

*

in my pages
rubbing an arnica leaf
out of the blank
appears
a heart of graphite

*

in a red wagon
the old man
pulls to the grave
his mother
her ashes

*

I refuse
to see it
as a problem
loving
you

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Five Ripples

reading in my journal
the lesson I learned two years
ago the same lesson
I was so thrilled
to learn today

*

I leave the dishes
when you say “let’s play,”
not because I want
to play but because the day
will come when you won’t ask

*

the veil
of hurt, though it
weighs nothing
I am utterly unable
to lift it

*

sowing poppy seeds
in the meadow together,
though it will be months
before we see stems
already I feel blossoming

*

what would be left
if we solved all our troubles—
just a breathing
sometimes when I get very still
I am still not still enough

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Five on Seeing

Did you notice,
I say, the gorilla’s nose
is shaped like a heart?
Yes, she says, but my heart
is shaped like a fist.

*

Easy to see
I’m a wave in the water—
when I disappear
nothing essential
will be lost.

*

Harder to believe
nothing’s lost when my daughter
pulls the needle
out of my knitting
and the stitches fall off.

*

Ever notice
how hard it is to see eye
to eye when our
backs are toward
each other?

*

Solar eclipse
in Taurus and the window
between worlds opens—
eyes wide, advises my chart,
it’s a new day for your heart

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Empty Handed Tanka

soft and wrinkled
creases ripped, markings faded
though I know it by heart
I unfold it again
this memory of you

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Five Accidents

my whole life
preparing me for this moment—
10:19 p.m.

*

rolling down my window
to ask directions, hearing
a chorus of birds

*

new snow on the grass
this, too, the scent
of exploded stars

*

please, I said
to the sun, don’t go
some part of me
reveling in asking
the impossible

*

my whole life
preparing me for this moment—
10:20 p.m.

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Three Nightlings

mama! she shrieks
I throw back the sheets, leap
run naked through night
but can’t make it into her dream
the place she needs me most

*

whatever the moon
says, that is what I
say, too

*

rushing out
to smell the morning
before its gone
there will be other mornings
but only one like this

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mostly fallen down
the barbed wire fence—
what’s it to the birds?

*

listening
for the moon—
sound of a heart

*

that hyacinth leaf—
staring at it until it is
no longer leaf

*

in the window
the boy waves at himself
saying he won’t stop
until the other boy
stops waving

*

poet, can you rhyme
with the cherry tree
in spring

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tanka

softly snowing
while all the stars are out
let’s love like that—
everyone will say it’s not possible
but we know

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for years
thinking you were my jailer
these unyielding bars
today finding the key
in my own pocket

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now threadbare
those black socks
of jealousy
and still every morning
she pulls them on

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six listenings

standing
in the not falling snow
not hearing
the voice
of god

*

the colder
it gets
the slower
the crickets
sing

*

telling it
to hush, that voice
that says
you are not
enough

*

eventually
you notice it,
like a painting
no longer there,
the chirrup gone

*

it’s so quiet
the moon
as it rises
at least so it seems
from here

*

the urge comes
to sit
the stone
beneath you
already there

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Three Wonders

bliss stands
in the center of the field
sticking out her tongue
laughing her head off
that I can’t see her

*

scent of quince—
how many other great pleasures
I never considered

*

dry river bed
not one rock
out of place

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which is worse
to walk the aspen
knowing they will die
or to not walk
the aspen?

*

on the table
the shadow of smoke
from the candle
how many other ghosts
do I not see in this room?

*

which is better
loving you although
it hurts, or
well, there are, it seems
no other options

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strange, even after
the door disappeared, jamb, too
I still stand
in the middle of openness
hands clasped around a knob

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Four Fallings

empty the trees
and thousands of lily bulbs
not yet bloomed—
in my heart
still spring

*

floating into the pond
the cottonwood leaves—
each one a boat
I would ride in
with you

*

for some things
it is too late, some nests
will never be built—
every hummingbird
is gone

*

I have wanted
to love you perfectly
petal after petal—
now I just want
to love you

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Golden Tanka

just before they are gone,
I treasure them most,
the aspen leaves—
please let us not
love like that

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Underachiever Tanka

not that I don’t
admire the universe,
but today it’s enough
to marvel at just this one
leaf

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Three Surprises

aslant
the freezing rain
turns sleet—
on the trail
laughter our boat

*

speaking
all my secrets
to the pebbles—
the gray spider
eavesdrops

*

once pulled
from the stem the petal
will never again stick—
in my hand
bare sunlight

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