[on moonlight lane . . .]

on moonlight lane

flocks of lawn flamingos

stand and stare

into the shuttered houses

row on row

Atlas Poetica 12, summer 2012

[at last I let the pummeling wind. . . ]

at last I let

the pummeling wind

direct my steps—

suddenly buttercups

a brighter yellow

Atlas Poetica 12, summer 2012

AHA: The Anthology, 2012

the woods road

Sunday morning

jack-in-the-pulpit

his silent nod

climbing the gate

into no-sound

thick under hemlocks

birch and boulder

around the hill or over it

the path

on the granite boulder

tongues of lichen

the scraped knee

stony hillside—

even the cow paths

drenched with light

mother and child

the cows

always at  home

sweet fern

crushed between fingers

the scent of time

blackberry tunnel

round the oak’s bones

emptiness

empty acorn

under one white oak

a whole new forest

shades of green—

hairy-cap moss

five fingers deep

filling

her picnic basket—

seedling, shadow, leaf

scarlet

wintergreen berries

for winter’s glass house

red-headed

soldier moss marching—

the far end of a twig

pipsissewa—

holding its name

in her hands

bracket fungi

in earth-scented duff

concentric circles

the woods road

never going

to the end of it

   

Lynx XXVI:1, Feb. 2011

[my only keepsake . . .]

my only keepsake

from a house of grand pianos

tiny brass Pan

piping a reedy tune

no-one else can hear

A Hundred Gourds 1:4, Sept. 2012

AHA: The Anthology, 2012

[braiding . . .]

braiding

her sister’s hair

after the rape

so many

long dark strands

Honorable Mention, Tanka Society of America  2012 International Contest

Ribbons 8:2, Fall 2012

[at the edge of a deep wood . . .]

at the edge

of a deep wood

an old couple

waltzing without music . . .

leaves spiral to earth

Ribbons 8:2, Fall 2012

[turkey]

my Thanksgiving

turkey carcass

feeding the vultures—

a blue holiday mood

lifts on outstretched wings

Atlas Poetica 11, March 2012

[three deer . . .]

three deer

bedded down in the meadow

rising early

to browse the frozen stubble

I hunt for poems

Multiverses 1:1, June 2012

[a fish . . .]

a fish

flips itself

out of the water

for the space of a breath

I see what it is to be you

A Hundred Gourds 1:4, Sept. 2012

[feet bound. . .]

feet bound

in silken slippers—

writing nushu,

sworn sisters

free their muffled voices

GUSTS 16, fall/winter 2012

(Nushu was a secret writing system used exclusively by women in a remote part of China.) 

[the diagnoses . . .]

the diagnoses

roll in one by one

beached by storms

together we build

small castles in the sand

Ribbons 8:1, spring/summer 2012

[in the jumble . . .]

in the jumble

of her jewelry box

my father’s

wedding ring—

a closed circle

GUSTS 16, fall/winter 2012

[a passport . . .]

a passport

stamped long ago with characters

I cannot read

the mute Pacific ocean

of your gaze

Ribbons 8:1, spring/summer 2012

[creases . . .]

creases

in an old letter

the holes left by words

Frogpond 35.2: spring/summer 2012

[the news . . . ]

the news

of death enters

softly

the women speak

of childbirth

red lights 8:2, June 2012

[among the names of God . . .]

among

the names of God ringing

like empty bells

the distant stars

sound their white silence

Moonbathing 3, Fall/Winter 2010-11

[after speaking . . .]

after speaking

of the diagnosis

he kneels

to take a photograph . . .

one white Atamasco lily

Simply Haiku 10:1, summer 2012

[peach blossoms . . .]

peach blossoms

against the slate sky

of her blindness—

she asks

when will they bloom

red lights June 2012

[locked in the curio cabinet . . .]

locked

in the curio cabinet

of my heart . . .

a Dresden shepherdess

still spilling summer flowers

Simply Haiku 10:1, summer 2012

[every summer . . .]

every summer

an orioles’ nest

suspended

at the tip of a branch

my dreams of flying

Simply Haiku 10:1, summer 2012

[goats' eyes . . .]

goats’ eyes

deep marbled spheres

of blue and gold

the cosmos

tugging at my zipper pull

Atlas Poetica 11, March 2012

[caged tigers . . .]

caged tigers

marking territory—

they too

believe the world

belongs to them

Atlas Poetica 11, March 2012

Litany of the Nearly Lost

Listen:  their names

carry news of the places they live:

Tooth Cave spider and Virgin River chub,

Red Hills salamander and Bliss Rapids snail,

Eureka Valley primrose and Lost River sucker.

Maybe once, before they vanish,

they will rise up out of their subterranean

caves, come down from islands

in the sky, leave forest pools and relict

prairies, leaping, swimming, sidling,

soaring, scattering seeds and petals

over the knotted highways

and into the halls of Congress—

the map turtles leading the way.

Tumbling Creek cavesnail.

Kneeland Prairie pennygrass.

Peter’s Mountain mallow.

Delhi Sands flower-loving fly.

Slithering, sliding, crawling, gliding,

let them come, singing with one voice

This land is our land—

Let it not vanish away.

Laguna Mountain skipper. 

Ash Meadows sunray, Salt Creek tiger beetle.

Santa Catalina Island fox.

Written River 3:1, summer 2012

[meeting the eyes . . .]

meeting the eyes

of a captive maned wolf—

sharing

a taste for watermelon,

the prospect of extinction

Atlas Poetica 11,  March 2012

[so many tickets . . .]

so many tickets

to foreign lands

when will we travel

the inside passage

of the heart

Moonbathing 6, spring/summer 2012
AHA: The Anthology, 2012

[bonsai forest--]

bonsai forest—

a pool of water

among the roots

wishing

I were two inches high

Multiverses 1:1, June 2012

[listening all night . . .]

listening all night

to the mockingbird sing

borrowed tunes

I wonder which

voice is mine

Atlas Poetica Special Feature: Snipe Rising from a Marsh, April 2012

[the hornets' nest . . .]

the hornets’ nest

broken open—gray and silver

bands of paper

everything I want to write

between the lines

GUSTS 15, spring/summer 2012

water

the sound of water

from the spring

on the hillside

my mother’s voice

reciting poems

at a deeper spring

in times of drought

I discover

a frog-prince

on emerald moss

a dowsing rod

seeking a source

of water

that will never run dry

I teach myself to read

I sit

with a book in a tree

by the river

flowing past roots

it generates power

at dawn

soft rain begins

the sound

of words

mingled in dreams

Lynx XXVII: 2, June 2012

[all day long . . .]

all day long

moving words on paper

hunting

what I meant to say—

a hazy moon

Moonbathing  5, fall/winter 2011

[listening . . .]

listening

for the silence

between raindrops

yesterday’s blunders

wash out to sea

GUSTS 15, spring/summer 2012

[words in a dream . . .]

words in a dream:

things beautiful,

broken,

and without fear—

tomorrow I’ll make a list

GUSTS 15, spring/summer 2012

[illusion . . .]

 

illusion—not seeing

mirrored in your own eyes

the bamboo lemur,

the amur leopard,

the river of stars

Ribbons 7:3, Fall 2011