Friday, January 17, 2020

plot
twist
the
home
without
ghosts

*

desert
this how are you
fine thanks

*Published by Weird Laburnum on 1/16/20

Thursday, January 16, 2020

One Drop

At some point, 
in the lifespan of my soul,

I want to know what it’s like
to be one drop of rain.

To fall from the sky and splash
into a flower,

and then linger
in its luxurious core.

Perhaps I could then,
every so slowly,

like the beginning of a rollercoaster,
dive from petal to ground,

and then nestle myself deeper,
deeper, deeper

into the warmth
of an inviting earth,

simply to rest forever
in her arms.

*Published by Dear Reader on 1/15/20

Saturday, January 11, 2020

bass solo
rumbles of thunder
shake me awake

*Published by Haikuniverse (www.haikuniverse.com) on 1/11/20

Friday, January 10, 2020

before we were human the sparrow’s call

*

midnight
don’t we all
birth a universe

*

moonlit grass when our lives converge

*

free
if only
a theory

*Published by Heliosparrow on 1/10/20

Tuesday, January 7, 2020

blank canvas
the earth covered
in fresh snow

*

a brush
of color
...spring returns

*

the Master’s Hand
flowers here
and there

*

a few leaves
redden
...chiaroscuro

*

endless art
nature’s glory
throughout the year

*Published in the winter 2020 edition of The Bamboo Hut

Thursday, January 2, 2020

Elegy in 4/4

Neil Young once sang
it's better to burn out
than to fade away     which was
also    coincidentally
quoted at the end of Kurt Cobain’s
suicide note

we're always fixated     on youth
aren't we?

better to be famous when
old men can     sexualize // monetize you
when you
look taut in bikinis and heels
as saliva drips on
the magazine spread

your legs

Christina Aguilera once sang
you gotta rub me the right way
as a teen     and even as a teen I

knew that was super creepy

but that’s still played
on the radio     and we all
listen to it     bob our heads
sing along like

whatever

have you ever thought that     when Britney
the Spears one     went batshit
and shaved her head
maybe that was the first thing
she could do

for herself

*Published in Kissing Dynamite Issue 13

Tuesday, December 10, 2019

ripped wings what you make of faith

*Published in Sonic Boom Issue Sixteen
**Selected for the 2019 Red Moon Anthology

Monday, December 9, 2019

If I May Be Honest

not enough love poems
have been written
for the leaves
sparkling wildly
in golden hour light
or the river’s
tender aria
playing dawn to dusk
simply
for anyone who
wishes to hear

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #17
Why Not

you can be
anything in the world
so why not
be a parachute
covered in the most luminous
warm hues
helping others land
gracefully
after a most precarious fall

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #17

Saturday, December 7, 2019

Hummingbird

it must be
how starlight
falls upon this
foreign city
because I tell you
I could roam this earth
non-stop
as the vagabond
I wish I could be
with only the essentials
slung upon my back
and your hand
nestled in mine

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #17

Friday, December 6, 2019

First Snow

when I see
for the first time
each year
the way snow reflects
a shimmering moon
upon a world 
fast asleep
I might as well
be a child again
opening her first present
on Christmas Eve

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #17

Wednesday, November 27, 2019

avalanche sobering up

*

azaleas opening a hymnal

*Published in seashores, Volume 3

Tuesday, November 26, 2019

blue
the memory
of seashells

*Published in the November 2019 issue of Stardust Haiku

Monday, November 25, 2019

quiet today
a palmful of stones
skipped along the pond

*

colder now
I sip my tea
with reverence

*Published in Another Trip Around the Sun: 365 days of haiku for children young and old

Sunday, November 24, 2019

only silence
could end you

the way
dusk falls

*

uncertain
the crickets hush
hush now

*

the silver behind the wind I never knew

*Published by Weird Laburnum on 11/24/19

Saturday, November 16, 2019

handle with care

please
do not incinerate
my remains into useless ash
or mix my skeleton
with the endless fog of layered
earth upon earth
clean my bones with reverence
dust them
shine them like the fine china
families pass down
generation to generation
and then gently use my bones
to drum out 
a rhythm only the sea and sky
could comprehend 

*Published by Poetry Super Highway (Poet of the Week: November 18 - 24, 2019)

Friday, November 15, 2019

wilderness
uncle asks
what I cost

*Published in Bones 18

Thursday, November 14, 2019

every road a cliff after the bomb after the bomb

*

skeleton in the cloud I also knew as mother

*

more humanity than humanity late-autumn oak

*Published by Proletaria on 11/14/19

Saturday, November 9, 2019

a used copy of e e cummings’ 95 poems 

i love it when a book smells like coffee. smells like cigarettes. like an unidentifiable existential crisis that i just happen to hold in my hand. <<< breathe in. out. again. >>> when the edges are stained and crumpled. smashed from a fistfight with recklessness or passion. <<< those are the same thing, right? >>> if this book could bleed it would. if it could talk it would scream every word at me. and oh God. yes. i would let it.

*Published by Dime Show Review 

Monday, November 4, 2019

bathed in red church bells ring

*

autumn leaves falling into has been

*

in the river drifting through an ellipsis 

*Published in the 2019 issue of Under the Basho (One-line Haiku section)