tanka

tanka--
small songs I sing
to join
my voice to other voices
hidden in the grass

Friday, October 17, 2014

doves


only bones
under the turned earth
of Bloody Kansas—
those passenger pigeons
the Choctaw called lost doves

~Atlas Poetica 18, July 15, 2014


mourning doves
drawn to a decoy—
our fascination
with the whirligig wings
of war



Friday, October 10, 2014

stone

long ago
I scaled a boulder 
the glacier left behind – 
my knee still bleeds 
against the granite edge of time 


~Ribbons 10:2, spring/summer 2014 

a stone woman
gives birth to a child
in the night
my book falls open
to the words, I need . . .



(The quotation in the second tanka is from Mountains and Rivers Sutra by Japanese Soto Zen Master Dogen Kigen, 1200–1253)



Saturday, October 4, 2014

thyme

substituting
summer savory
for thyme
I concoct a recipe
for the autumn of my life


~Moonbathing 9, Fall/Winter 2013-14

Saturday, September 27, 2014

[my cat . . .]

RIP Tara        2/10/2005--7/25/2014















my cat 
watches the water run, 
unruffled
by the endless flow . . .
how tight I wind my cuckoo clock 


~cattails 3: Sept. 2014

Saturday, September 20, 2014

autumn fruits


twin fawns
browsing the orchard
for early apples . . .
how little we knew
of autumn rain

~Fire Pearls 2 Anthology, summer 2013



wild persimmons
not yet sweetened 
by frost
I paint the long days
with a tincture of hope


~Atlas Poetica 14, March 2013




Friday, September 12, 2014

in spring rain

the heartbeat
under my heartbeat
stops—
a rip in the membrane
between worlds

~Fire Pearls 2 Anthology, summer 2013

rebuked
for writing a poem
about her miscarriage 
     in spring rain 
     she cleans the bluebird boxes

~Fire Pearls 2 Anthology, summer 2013



Sunday, September 7, 2014

Will the Circle Be Unbroken



My mother is helping me hang wallpaper in the kitchen of my first house. Eagles, oak leaves and acorns march one-two, one-two around the walls, back to our starting point above the window. But here’s a dilemma—we’ll have to put two eagles side-by-side, or else two oak leaves. To me, either arrangement looks glaringly wrong. But my mother cheerfully pastes up two eagles in a row, taking care to select a left-facing eagle where the pattern calls for right.

a circle
inked on white paper—
imperfect
open to the drift
of stardust and ashes

                 ~Haibun Today 8:3, Sept. 2014