a woodpecker

pecking pecking

each day

is a constant battle

to stay sober

*Published in Issue #22 of Moonbathing

tonight’s wind

you roar

and then you whisper

thank you

for trusting me

with your thoughts

*

tidal

just once

i want to know

what the moon has to say

about us

*

roses are rebels

they face each storm

head on

and yet

they always return

perhaps this is why

they so often

carry thorns

*

ephemeral

sometimes

music makes me

forget

i am mortal

*

in awe

while i know

the science behind

the twinkling of stars

just for this moment

i will feign ignorance

simply to enjoy

their silent hymn

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #19

impermanence

but the night

wasn’t always

and neither

was the rain

*

everyday sacred

as i approach

the sun-soaked forest

i stop and inhale

this, too

is hallowed ground

*

on butterflies (and humans)

you are

a painting in motion

never let

the world tell you otherwise

*

better days ahead

the hungry way

daffodils reach

for the sun

my joy

hinges on recounting

such lovely things

*

astray

tossing and turning

in this bed hewn

from jagged stone

i am

so lost

without your light

*Published in Fireflies’ Light: A Magazine of Short Poems #19

metamorphosis

i chose to hide

hiding until not even

the moon and constellations

could find me now

see, this is the quandary

of innocence

your crime becomes my skin

becomes my marrow

where your violence went is

a roadmap of never will

i may have chosen

the dusty attic and cobwebs

with a bed tightly smashed against

the broken wall, but i never

chose such marred sheets

in dreams

i still have fingers replaced by tentacles

and the quiet streets are the ones

i most fear

*Published in Black Flowers Literary Journal, Volume Five

perhaps

we have misread

the moon

*

now that

we have become

spiders burning

under glass

*

Jupiter

I am the one

called ant

*Published by Heliosparrow on 6/5/20

the ends justify the means (or some shit like that)

i didn’t learn much

from my 8 a.m. economics class

during my sophomore year of college

partly because of the tortuous

time of day, but mostly

because i dropped it

however, i have since developed

a working knowledge of this subject

courtesy of #45, who when faced

with America’s impending economic doom

suggested that the sick, quite literally

inject themselves with Clorox

*Published in The Alien Buddha Destroys the Economy by Alien Buddha Press

guns. We all choose different milks

*Published in the May 2020 edition of is/let

sip of chamomile how gently stars drop

*

taking a few

extra breaths

fully bloomed jasmine

*Published in The Asahi Shimbun (Asahi Haikuist Network) on 5/29/20

entertainment

the darkest possible

timeline

*Published in the May 2020 edition of is/let

towering pine

show me how

to persevere

*Published in the May 2020 issue of Stardust Haiku

Blind Eye

sunrise through dust

they say a bad wind blows

along the Silk Road

rumors of death

as common as the sand

drawing blood

a plague doctor points

to the grey sky

thundering clouds

rows of hospital beds

replace verdant grass

all night lit and buzzing

the pharma skyscraper

in Wuhan

a new uncertainty blooms

while we turn a blind eye

*Published in the 2020 edition of Under the Basho (Linked Forms section)

*Written by Roman Lyakhovetsky and Tiffany Shaw-Diaz

collapsing into a black hole the fucks i give

*

pull the strings of a cello. the sun. a rifle.

*

in deep thought. saturn’s rings. an internal knife fight.

*

altered states of being the substrata of bees

*

even so

some like

the abuse

*Published in the 2020 issue of Under the Basho (Ku section)

night sets in body aches

*Published via the Poetry Pea podcast (Series 3, Episode 10: Monoku)

orphan. In my palms, a freshly cut violet

*Published in the May 2020 edition of is/let

migraine

it’s all about

warwarwar

*

dawn

the pedophile

straightens his tie

*

Father’s Day

I scrub my hands

until they bleed

*Published in Issue #53 of Failed Haiku

quarantine nose ring

it’s been six weeks

or maybe ninety (i have, admittedly

lost track of time) since i left my home

without fear

of breathing the air

that you have breathed or touching

the places that you have touched

so i have contemplated

perhaps a few times

what it be like to pierce

my septum

with the limited tools

i have in my possession, simply

to shake up

this achingly dull routine

*Published in The Alien Buddha Contracts Covid-19 Act 8

we stumbled over an unmarked grave. Her eyes

*Published in the May 2020 edition of is/let

Dawn, with Bullet Hole

I have never

studied wars,

but I wouldn’t

be surprised

if behind every

major conflict

there’s always that

one asshole

who does that 

one asshole thing

right before

the first shots

rip souls,

like the one time

you asked him

if he really

did that thing

to me,

and by that thing,

I actually mean

his regular insistence

that I share his bed

with him

when I was only

thirteen.

*Published in Rogue Agent issue #62

Practice Doesn’t Make Perfect

Apparently, it takes 10,000 hours to master something. If that were true, however, then I would have certainly mastered the art of being human by now.

wingin’ it

the pigeon

and I

*Published in Issue 1 of drifting-sands-haibun

don’t give up

when you freeze

in that all-too common

grip of fear

please remember

no moment

is ever permanent

you will heal

you will survive

*

life on pause

like so many of us

who are forcefully homebound

I have begun to listen

to the birds

who continually voice

their thoughts in song

to the leaves

who sweetly dance

with an ever-present wind

perhaps I would have missed

these beautiful things

had I not slowed down

*

together

I think it’s safe

to assume

that we are all

filled with anxiety

so let’s take

a restful moment

to breathe slowly

just you and me

inhale

exhale

*Published in Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal, 2020

like magic

I often wonder

if anyone else

has wished

if they could hold

the moon close

then blow it away

with a kiss

*

ouroboros

the wind has stopped the rain has stopped and even

time herself has stopped but I cannot stop

reliving my sins

*

dedication

to the darkness

who unsheathed her sword

perhaps hundreds
or thousands of times

only to miss me

again

and 

again

and

again

*

priorities

no matter

what happens in this life

I can rest assured

that the squirrels

outside my window

will continue to bounce

to and fro

completely blissful with

a mouthful of nuts

*Published in Cantos: A Literary and Arts Journal, 2020 

lullaby...

the wind takes me

through the stars

*Published in the April 2020 issue of Stardust Haiku

lockdown

in theory

there is light

some have called it

golden or warm

you might wonder

why i have not seen it

which is a natural

question to ask

so let’s say

i live in a home

and the walls are

so black and thick

i find myself isolated

thus filling with ache

and let’s say this ache

is quite monster-like

spawning long tentacles

that entomb

my body like a mummy

cloaked in darkest night

*Published in The Ekphrastic Review’s Guillermo Wiedemann’s Writing Challenge on 4/24/20

it’s just the law dividing willows

*Published in the April 2020 edition of is/let

thorn

our last

words

*Published in Wales Haiku Journal, spring 2020