[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

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

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

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