Wordtreasure

Wordtreasure Diary

February 15, 2004

1

(winter)

snow, wafer thin—
to the shoulders
of brown blades

2

(winter)

winter oak
the hollow knock
of a woodpecker

3

(winter)

Seneca Creek
I catch a snowflake
with my tongue


June 6, 2004

4

(tanka—TSA Ribbons)

lost mojo
on the Red Line
a sweet face
no opportunity
for me


June 20, 2004

5

(tanka—Simply Haiku)

my glass is filled
with dusk tonight
I swirl the west and think of you
and sip the stars
down to the stem


July 11, 2004

6

(tanka—American Tanka)

wind over the lake
desiccate leaves
scrape indolently
at our feet
like the years


October 3, 2004

7

(winter)

clouds
the skeletal woods
are pencil black


April 3, 2005

8

(winter—The Heron's Nest)

Oregon fog
rumors
of mountains

9

(tanka)

leaning against
the earth's axis:
cloud ladder...
a great blue heron
clatters into the reeds


May 1, 2005

10

(spring)

new construction
nesting swallows vie
for an electrical outlet


June 15, 2005

11

(tanka—TSA Ribbons)

double-clicking
the Events folder
our first kiss—
remembering your touch,
the tilt of your face

12

(tanka—TSA Ribbons)

the river flowed backward
for her—friends took leave
one by one
she is all alone
at the source


July 3, 2005

13

(summer)

mountain ridges—
far is light,
near is dark


July 10, 2005

14

(autumn)

leaving Oregon—
a long V of ducks
in freezing rain


July 17, 2005

15

(tanka—TSA Ribbons)

she touched my cheek
and turned away—
summer's end
how many turns
around the sun?


July 31, 2005

16

(spring)

thunder clap
lap siding seals off
the unfinished nest

17

(tanka)

young lovers
on my street...
it's still there,
lodged in my brain,
shrapnel from the middle school wars


September 4, 2005

18

(tanka—Simply Haiku)

repair work
on the dam
emptying out
the harmony
of water and mud

19

(spring)

Mother's funeral:
the condolences of strangers
wanting to be alone


October 9, 2005

20

(autumn)

cold snap...
as useless as the setting moon,
the rising sun

21

(tanka)

limpid water
slips over the rocks
moonlight
water-polished
granite


October 16, 2005

22

(tanka)

wondering...
will I be red
or gold?
will I be raked
into a pile?


October 30, 2005

23

(autumn)

stone-paver clouds
a solitary heron
waits for instructions


November 6, 2005

24

(tanka)

brainstorming
in the corner office
on the fifth floor—
the high seriousness
of fall colors

25

(tanka—Simply Haiku)

a pinwheeling leaf
strikes the watercourse
and floats around the bend
gone forever
do you ever think of me?


November 13, 2005

26

(tanka)

a flickering film
from the late 40s
the blond child
is me
a thousand lives ago


November 20, 2005

27

(spring)

white azaleas—
these old love letters
tied with ribbon

28

(autumn)

late November run...
measuring my workout in herons,
not miles


November 27, 2005

29

(summer)

breathing deep—
rain unlocks the fragrance
of oily streets

30

(winter)

indecisive geese
haggle over a landing spot
white winter sky


December 4, 2005

31

(tanka—Simply Haiku)

looking ahead to the past
remembering the future
one datastream
the road from home
is a road leading home


December 25, 2005

32

(tanka)

time is a purse seine
that snares
schools of men
do you feel
a narrowing?


January 15, 2006

33

(winter)

ground-level clouds
meander through the firs
at the speed of a slug


January 22, 2006

34

(spring)

wind flattens
the prairie grass—
shifting clouds

35

(winter)

mixing bowl—
wind, rain, and sunlight turn,
turn again


January 29, 2006

36

(autumn)

first bite
into the crisp apple—
clap of thunder


February 5, 2006

37

(winter)

memories
from someone else's childhood
white church, starry night

38

(winter)

in my dream,
mother scolds a waitress
the coldest hour of the night

39

(winter)

empty
and quiet
putting away Christmas

40

(tanka)

touching the smooth bark
of the camphor tree
I used to climb—
the diaspora
of playmates


February 12, 2006

41

(winter)

sun break
ducks splash down
on raspberry clouds

42

(winter)

morning star
the pond's only frog asserts,
"I am somebody"

43

(summer)

thin air
lavender lake
and sky

44

(winter)

the helpful creek
gives the river a mighty shove
drowned cattails


February 26, 2006

45

(winter)

counting cars
at the railroad crossing
cold drizzle

46

(spring)

adding themselves
to the meeting agenda
Townsend's warblers


March 5, 2006

47

(winter)

as far as the east
is from the west
cobblestone clouds

48

(winter)

cold and clear
a fingernail clipping
for a moon

49

(winter)

home, after a glum day
yellow crocuses
are breaking ground

50

(winter)

entering the third trimester
of winter—
cherry blossoms


March 12, 2006

51

(winter—The Heron's Nest)

restless ducks
fly south
fly north

52

(winter)

peekaboo sun
shadows come out for recess
go back to class


March 19, 2006

53

(winter)

lingering regrets—
in my rearview mirror,
a peach sunset

54

(winter)

daffadils
in a hillside pasture
unstoppable spring


March 26, 2006

55

(tanka)

bending in his chair,
the homeless vet
is writing on cardboard
the stores are full
of shoppers

56

(summer)

ant-like plane-pushers
converge on the Hueys
the smell of AvGas

57

(tanka—Simply Haiku)

phosphorous flares
illuminate those
about to die
Huey gunships
are pissing bullets


April 23, 2006

58

(spring—The Heron's Nest)

deep coral tulips—
our quiet
conversation

59

(tanka)

our new home
even here, small children play
in the street
nothing has changed
nothing is the same

60

(spring)

twilight—
under the street lamp,
children keep playing

61

(spring)

cloudless sky
the fragrance of turned soil
and lilacs


April 30, 2006

62

(spring)

the cloud river
cuts through a meadow of stars
full moon rising

63

(summer)

night winds
ruffle the lake
moon shards


May 7, 2006

64

(spring)

dogwood sapling:
four hands pat down
the compost


May 14, 2006

65

(summer—Simply Haiku )

dried dogwood flowers
the old couple
eats in silence

66

(spring)

golden sky
the hills
darken


May 21, 2006

67

(tanka)

my love for her
would last forever
no doubt I meant it
on the date
of the postmark

68

(summer)

no sleeping in...
a loud mockingbird
hits every call

69

(tanka)

the long-legged girl
with the low-cut blouse
uses her lovely eyes
to flirt with me
and copy my answer

70

(tanka)

the world of work...
a slow winding river
on a featureless plain
I remember nothing;
nothing remembers me


May 28, 2006

71

(tanka—TSA Ribbons)

I put down my pen
to watch the birds
swallows criss-cross the street
hour after hour because...
I have no idea


June 4, 2006

72

(spring)

leaving college—
just ahead
Gas Food Lodging

73

(tanka)

my life-changing event,
little noticed
at the time,
is now
a thousand-piece puzzle

74

(tanka)

the boy who came
to be my father
kissed her cheek
what did my face look like
before that happened?


June 11, 2006

75

(tanka)

you will always be
fifteen to me;
that's the way I like it
if I call your name,
don't come

76

(tanka)

those days
of yes/no decisions:
remembering yes,
imagining no—wondering
about my unremembered life

77

(tanka)

carefree children
play in the street
how I envy them
will I have enough
for retirement?

78

(tanka)

fat faces
were flushed and shiny
from good-natured folly
as they cursed and cheered
the giant screen


June 18, 2006

79

(spring)

drought—
not one
frog sound

80

(tanka)

poets go on
and on
about love
better to write it on the skin
with fingertips

81

(tanka)

the silent hawk
lifts the startled mouse
off the prairie
not every death
is a carnival ride


June 25, 2006

82

(tanka)

in our family,
Mother, Inc., owns
all the bandwidth
weighing strategies
to outfox peevishness

83

(tanka)

crisp contrast
between light and shadow
on the Coast Range
how sad it would be
to leave Oregon

84

(summer)

shadows lengthen...
the breasts and cleavages
of the Coast Range

85

(tanka)

Mother wakes up
disoriented
until she visualizes
the face
of her enemy

86

(tanka)

re-reading Beowulf
better to avenge
than indulge in mourning—
a smudge of newsprint
from the New York Times


July 2, 2006

87

(summer—Frogpond)

the hard-breathing trout
explaining death
to a child

88

(tanka)

turning the pages
of my writing notebook,
I am mindful
of how easy it is
to write bad poetry

89

(tanka)

unchallenged
by city lights,
a tsunami of stars
washes over
the world


July 9, 2006

90

(summer)

Cascade sunrise
suddenly stars
fade to blue

91

(tanka)

passing Camp Roberts
and the smooth-sanded hills
of the Central Coast
looking west
to China


July 16, 2006

92

(tanka)

connecting the dots
of known events
across white silences
of ruined chronicles
forever mute

93

(tanka)

the loveliest things
are incredibly brief...
the loveliest things
happen only once...
my years compress to minutes

94

(summer)

body surfing
the salty taste
of joy

95

(summer)

the endless summer
that ended long ago
skin cancer

96

(autumn)

taking the cat
to the vet for the last time
all-day cloud cover


July 23, 2006

97

(summer)

heat wave
the thick air lightens
emerald hills

98

(summer)

alpine lake
mirrors the sky
sweet ponderosa


July 30, 2006

99

(tanka)

effortlessly
the words fell into place
on the first draft,
like the great sex
we read about in books


August 6, 2006

100

(tanka)

deep grasses choke
the broad path
we used to walk
our past is lost
in a seamless field of green

101

(summer)

Muir Woods
a gnat swarm moves
into the sunbeam


August 13, 2006

102

(summer)

peach clouds
swirl down the sky drain
August sunset

103

(summer)

small town Oregon
the great events
a world away

104

(summer)

chattering leaves:
windblown trees glance warily
at skies promising rain

105

(tanka)

trout fishing—
gentle waves nudge the boat
drifting, drifting
the view of white mountains
is all I need

106

(tanka)

a waxing moon rises
in the indigo sky
as stars wait their turn...
the freezing wind
combs through my bones


September 10, 2006

107

(summer)

listening
to the rising sun...
hiss of traffic


December 10, 2006

108

(tanka)

I promised
to comfort you
in our old age
and now
here we are

109

(winter—The Heron's Nest)

bitter snowstorm...
strangers become friends
for a day


December 24, 2006

110

(autumn)

eyes shut:
turning up the volume
of the river

111

(autumn)

power outage...
seagulls go about
their business


December 31, 2006

112

(tanka)

tanka world:
rubbing sweet sounds together
gets me nowhere...
moonlight is falling
on the empty half of the bed

113

(tanka)

the master-builder
wears herself out
fixing her hair
look on my works, ye mighty,
and despair

114

(winter)

fresh snow
blood clouds
in the eastern sky

115

(tanka)

these cheap roses
are bowing their heads
all too soon
things did not turn out
the way we wanted

116

(winter)

howling winds...
the odor and flicker
of a struck match


January 14, 2007

117

(winter)

snow is falling
on ashen streets...
dread of driving

118

(tanka)

transfiguration:
after the ice storm,
good-for-nothing
deciduous trees become
church windows


January 21, 2007

119

(tanka)

lovers do not live
in time...
coitus, and then
a shift in focus:
the clock starts

120

(tanka)

telephone poles
stride backwards and disappear
behind me
motion and rest—
what is the point?

121

(tanka)

Baghdad...
birds build their nests
in smashed houses
it's the migration season
for people

122

(tanka)

after curfew,
men in ski masks
visit the neighbors
rib-thin dogs
hunt for food

123

(winter)

winter
the many colors of the rainbow,
each of them white

124

(tanka)

spring in Baghdad...
soldiers plug bullet holes
with chocolates
nest-building birds
know nothing of God

125

(tanka)

suicide video—
her last wish is for
the continuation
of hatred...
changing the channel


January 28, 2007

126

(tanka)

family reunion...
we check our sarcasm
at the door
borrowing silence
from the snow

127

(tanka)

we giggle more at him
than the joke he tells
each year...
my squinting heart
measures out the joy

128

(winter)

lazybeds Sunday—
the blackbirds play
musical branches

129

(tanka)

we are
and then we are
what others think we are
this is not the moment
to say good-by

130

(tanka)

harsh sunlight
in the deciduous thicket
outside my window
I lower my eyes
to the empty text box

131

(winter)

winter blues...
searching for an old pal: gone,
like a lost hub cap

132

(autumn—Paper Wasp)

redgold salmon
flap their tails...
Indian summer


February 18, 2007

133

(tanka)

waiting, waiting
for a single flash of genius
and when it comes
I am busy
writing a poem

134

(winter)

I stir the mind-ash,
searching for a word
winter gloom

135

(tanka)

viewing
the far truths of the universe
through cloud scum
who was born?
who died?


February 25, 2007

136

(winter)

first sip of rich coffee...
under a rain cloud
1,000 miles wide

137

(tanka—Simply Haiku)

the pounding surf...
why does it matter now
after 40 years?
bleached stones against
the bleached sky


138

(tanka)

weary from reading,
I turn off the light
and sit in the dark
striving and yielding,
gathering and scattering


March 4, 2007

139

(tanka)

no longer
forward-leaning warfighters,
the wounded
are deleted
from the present tense

140

(summer)

half-court players
are talking trash...
barbecue breeze


March 11, 2007

141

(summer)

a copper sun
and good wine...
a table for one

142

(tanka)

on the hilltop,
a cedar-grove clipper ship
is leaving
for the farthest port
of my imagination

143

(spring)

robins on
dewy grass
stars wink out


March 18, 2007

144

(tanka)

pressing my nose
into a basket of sheets
from the clothesline...
over the sink,
Mother sings a tune

145

(summer)

wooden clothespins...
bringing the Pacific wind
into the house

146

(tanka)

Iraq War,
my, how you have grown...
look at you:
such a big boy
and so strong!


April 1, 2007

147

(tanka)

there is no instance
of clarity
when grief tears the heart
we kept his voice—
"Please leave a message at the tone."

148

(spring)

now operating
on Mountain Time—
yesterday's storm


April 8, 2007

149

(summer—Paper Wasp)

summer heat
coming all this distance to find
nothing but distance


150

(tanka)

two cities
at opposite ends
of a long lake
lovers sip the cup
of all the world's illusions


April 15, 2007

151

(tanka)

tall firs die young
I am a useless
and ugly tree
without a worry
in the world


April 22, 2007

152

(tanka)

moon sliver
and evening star
prepare to leave
what good is knowledge
against the twilight?

153

(tanka—American Tanka)

waking up
to the first nudge
of pain...
great unweavings begin
with one loose thread

154

(summer—Simply Haiku)

Taps...
the widow folds her life
and puts it away


155

(tanka—TSA Ribbons)

walking away
from the laugh track
into the twilit park,
into the noise-cone
of a brood of cicadas


April 29, 2007

156

(summer)

rags of mist
hang from the cliffs
the steelheader swings a fly

157

(tanka)

a brief war story:
as long as it takes to smoke
a Lucky Strike...
the old petty officer
extinguishes his fire

158

(tanka—Simply Haiku)

as I cut and splice
a few salient vignettes,
the rest of my life
spools out
on the cutting room floor

159

(spring)

April moon
mountains recede
into darkness


May 20, 2007

160

(winter)

snow-silvered trees
lavender skies chill
to indigo

161

(tanka)

searching
for the precise meaning
of words in English
time passes...
my books grow old with me

162

(summer)

apricot sunset—
an unexpected tug
of regret

163

(tanka)

townhouses in a row:
brick, taupe, cream, and mocha...
warm colors
in the cool kaleidoscope
of sun and snow


May 27, 2007

164

(tanka)

lilies
neither toil nor spin
we come in
go out
with nothing

165

(tanka)

the sunless sky
trades its feathery mist
for twisting steam
rising
out of the pasture thaw

166

(tanka)

a meteor flared and fell
on a starry night
now fifty summers dead
for the lingering light,
I give you thanks


June 3, 2007

167

(summer)

sidewalk dining
in Bethesda
splash of red wine

168

(tanka)

the doctor said
her surgery went
as planned
Mother's Day
without Mom

169

(tanka)

I hold the vest
I gave to him for Christmas,
the one he mocked
and never wore—
feeling the heat in my face

170

(summer)

ruby red
on twilight orange
a chevron of ducks

171

(tanka)

during downtime,
I try my best
to look professional
as I stitch
my little poems


June 10, 2007

172

(tanka)

amid the dunes,
rain water fills a boat
contrary to design
an elderly woman
babysits her mother


June 17, 2007

173

(winter)

sunrise...
white noise
of the city

174

(spring)

spring rain
baby slugs test drive
their first slime

175

(tanka)

she rings the bell,
but no one comes
for prayers
when she is gone,
grass will eat the church


July 22, 2007

176

(tanka)

the oboeist
is tuning up the players...
her note—
where does it come from?
where does it go?

177

(tanka)

after three days
of revisions,
I click Delete
clouds drift away
my sky is empty


July 29, 2007

178

(summer)

death in August
the moon in the water
keeps me company

179

(tanka)

who cares
if long ago and far away
he dropped the ball?
of all regrets,
this is the most persistent


August 5, 2007

180

(winter)

the waterfall slows
to icy silence...
no family ever comes


August 12, 2007

181

(tanka)

moving
from one unknowable
to another...
I do not ask
for directions

182

(summer)

bare bulb:
two moths race to die
sealing my letter

183

(tanka)

my dream
was so intense
before the dawn...
if only for a moment,
love was sure


August 19, 2007

183

(tanka)

tributaries
empty out their names
in me
eternal return
is what we call life

184

(summer)

a weary blackbird
hops between cars
triple digit heat


August 26, 2007

185

(summer)

replaying an argument...
a deep contrail
scratches cirrus clouds


September 9, 2007

186

(summer)

Cambria...
bare parched hills,
deerskin brown

187

(tanka)

looking down,
two hawks turn
in tandem
the scent
of pines

188

(summer)

boardwalk...
gulls eat the french fries
when diners leave

189

(tanka)

walking
hand in hand
on the beach...
unaware of the tides
coming in, going out


September 16, 2007

190

(tanka)

stepping through
the pines of Cambria,
I hear the white noise
of unseen waves,
plus family gossip

191

(autumn)

first frost
scattering his ashes
at the golf course

192

(tanka)

the baby is dead...
while he stares
into the street,
I feel my breasts
filling with milk


September 23, 2007

193

(tanka)

clicking Send—
she is the last
of my parents' generation
gone are the trees
I used to climb


September 30, 2007

194

(tanka)

my boss is a gracious guest
in my cubicle;
as host, I am pleased
to do my best:
we both get what we want

195

(tanka)

results destroy
the worst manager...
until that day,
how many broken lives
will litter the shop floor?

196

(autumn)

warm drizzle
cloud puffs graze
on the char hills


October 6, 2007

197

(tanka)

playing "workup"
on a darkening street
long ago
nighttime:
mother calls me home

198

(tanka)

the time salesman
takes my offer
to the sales manager
seeing friends off,
being seen off

199

(tanka)

the odor
only a five-year-old can love:
asphalt
before there were orgasms,
there was a steamroller


December 9, 2007

200

(tanka)

facing Subic Bay
we clink our bottles of San Miguel
and laugh
at the question:
Is this war necessary?

201

(spring)

hard rain
suddenly
the sprinklers

202

(winter)

joint ache...
slippery moss
in the freezing mist


December 16, 2007

203

(summer)

summer wind
gills of the willow
open and close


January 6, 2008

204

(tanka)

unsettled by something,
squawking seagulls
going nowhere
weave in and out
in a tight formation

205

(tanka)

she took him at his word
until Eyewitness News
found his penis
in no-one-else's
phone records


January 13, 2008

206

(tanka)

we broke up
fifty years ago...
I wonder
where you are today
on your birthday

207

(tanka)

passages
from tarn to tide:
postambles
to old transformations,
preambles to new


January 20, 2008

208

(tanka)

creamy bark
of the white birch...
it papers over
dark secrets of the heart
I hold so dear

209

(tanka)

driving by the house
in which we lived
for thirty years...
I wonder: is it okay
to feel nothing?

210

(summer)

smog
is a season word
L.A. haiku


January 27, 2008

211

(tanka)

a blackbird flutters up
to the highest branch
and fumbles
for a clawhold;
snow flutters down

212

(tanka)

to the east,
newscrawler clouds
scrape the Cascades
I lower my chin
into my coat

213

(winter)

freezing!
winter has a little strength—
just enough to die


February 3, 2008

214

(summer)

burning the grass stubble...
distant sailboats glide
on the red lake

215

(tanka)

she is the wind
she cares for nothing...
I am the grass
I cannot move
without her


February 10, 2008

216

(autumn)

autumn twilight
a string of geese cuts
Mt. Hood in half


March 2, 2008

217

(tanka)

in mother's
retirement community,
EMT vehicles
enter and leave
in silence

218

(tanka)

I dip my hands
into the still lake
I cup the moon
and bring it
to my lips


March 9, 2008

219

(autumn)

autumn sun
the raven drinks water
from a hollow log

220

(tanka)

brute beasts return
to the clear-running creek
now bone dry...
my hands remember
the pressure of her breasts

221

(tanka)

autumn's shadow
passes over winter
whoever is alone now
will be alone
for a long time


March 23, 2008

222

(summer)

no crop this year...
gothic windows bleared
by prairie rains


April 6, 2008

223

(tanka)

as a rose unfolds,
there is always a time
when beauty
is most compelling:
for you, that time is now


April 13, 2008

224

(tanka)

autumn comes
with the twilight,
winter the night...
our two lives devolve
in our longing

225

(spring)

November wind
the goose's cry
sounds like barack

226

(tanka)

a day-old moon
and the sun
rise in tandem
soiled clouds
drain to the west


April 20, 2008

227

(summer)

Sawtooth Mountains
the alpine lake is stocked
with clouds

228

(summer)

nightfall
cricket aria,
then the chorus


May 4, 2008

229

(winter)

cold winter rain...
I am lost in the foothills
of the learning curve

230

(tanka)

divorce:
with nervous hands,
I fold unfold
fold unfold
my accordion skirt


May 18, 2008

231

(winter)

joint pain
gazing at my unmade bed
of a face

232

(winter)

hateful words
and a door slam—
frost on snow

233

(tanka)

in my world,
even the shadow has a shadow...
I look for a place
to lie down
between words in a sentence

234

(summer)

hiking
in healing solitude
cloud ponies


May 25, 2008

235

(spring)

warm chinook wind
leaves float away
in the river melt


June 15, 2008

236

(autumn)

salmon scrape upstream
in waters beaten flat by the sun
autumn

237

(tanka)

when we died,
they said casualties were low;
they gave us medals
and thanked us
for our service


June 22, 2008

238

(tanka)

the death toll rises
because of us...
because of us
the war is back
above the fold

239

(tanka)

tonight
by the lemon tree
our first kiss...
I ride home
on a horse of oxygen


June 29, 2008

240

(tanka)

digging deep
into a pocket of nothingness,
Hubble finds new stars
and new pockets
of nothingness

241

(summer)

is this parting
our last?
summer's end


July 20, 2008

242

(summer)

August moon
children disappear
into their lives

243

(tanka)

lost?
the stream, trees, and sky
know where you are
listen:
you are home


July 27, 2008

244

(summer)

Santana winds ripple
the long grass
a flash of lightning

245

(tanka)

stepping off
the wheel of favor
and disgrace,
I am free
to starve for purity


August 24, 2008

246

(tanka)

after a run
I nod hello to young lovers
on the sawdust path
they face each other
and close me out

247

(autumn)

deer picks a bad time
to step out of the woods
Sierra sunrise


September 28, 2008

248

(summer)

a glow behind
the cloud screen
hills in silhouette

249

(tanka)

she pulls her weeds
and never looks up
as white butterflies
mingle in the swirl
of cottonwood seeds

250

(tanka)

loggers pose
with a cross-cut saw
ten feet long
the sepia history
of real men

251

(tanka)

sensations settle
in the groundwater
of my brain
living in a time
when violence is beautiful

252

(autumn)

early autumn...
still refusing to sell,
the color green

253

(tanka)

blue sagebrush hills...
curving through a basalt cut,
the slim-waisted river
brings Yellowstone
to the sea

254

(tanka)

my mood sours
as a street musician
mangles Mozart
sleet morning,
Bethesda Station

255

(summer)

daybreak hike
blue sagebrush hills
of high-desert Idaho


October 5, 2008

256

(winter)

my bare feet
on the cold tile entry
morning embers

257

(tanka)

the granite moon
is breaking ground,
extending
from roots of stone
in the Santa Lucia Mountains

258

(tanka)

set the night
on fast forward
and watch
white leaves drift
on a black river

259

(tanka)

we go online
to see how much we lost
in a single day
our dazed president
speaks to the nation

260

(tanka)

a boy-soldier lies
with his face
on the continent of Europe,
his feet
in the Atlantic

261

(autumn)

squirrels are busy doing
whatever it is squirrels do
falling leaves


October 12, 2008

262

(tanka)

pigeons run free
in Pioneer Square
picking off the easy food
just like their forebears
the dinosaurs

263

(tanka)

re-reading
the cost-benefit analysis
for a canceled project
speculating about
the marriage we never had

264

(tanka)

a towering glacier
at the end of the world
converts the sun
into a thousand spotlights
aimed at me

265

(summer)

thumbing through
the book of night,
moon finds a blank lake

266

(tanka)

the map says,
You are here...
yes, we are here,
but we are all
far from home

267

(tanka)

steam rises
from the composting debris
in the clearcut
fog rubs its back
against the big woods

268

(summer)

pan fried trout—
I learn something new
about my father


October 19, 2008

269

(winter)

I am wrapped
in stone-colored rain
winter

270

(tanka)

she pushes
pushes! her fatherless child
into a two-strike world
sitcom laughter
is barely audible

271

(tanka)

events gone awry
in the faraway past
linger
like cat urine
on an old rug

272

(summer)

isolation...
the easy cast
of a dry fly

273

(tanka)

big-hat fisherman
stands in the river current
for hours,
moving arm and wrist
and little else

274

(tanka)

the blacktop road
comes to an end here
at the edge
of the wilderness
be not afraid

275

(summer)

summer love...
I am a wandering snail,
sliding on a kiss

276

(tanka)

had I known
I was destined to be
a nobody,
I would have skipped
the heavy air of Seattle

277

(summer)*

shaping the land
shaped by it—
the river

* h/t William J. “Bill” Higginson


October 26, 2008

278

(summer)

Pocatello...
thuds and echoes
of boxcars

279

(tanka)

he describes
his failed marriage,
his loss of faith
some lives turn out
better than others

280

(tanka)

hidden in the trees,
hundreds of birds deliver
their talking points
of the day
to no one in particular

281

(tanka)

I pull over
for a double rainbow,
and waste an hour...
clouds drift off—
none return


November 2, 2008

282

(tanka)

water finds its way
around and through
all things,
even the bodies
in the Tigris River

283

(autumn)

duck hunters open fire
pearls from a snapped string
scatter

284

(tanka)

this withered tree
no longer feels the pain
of wind and frost
bad news on the doorstep
does not trouble her

285

(tanka)

10,000 years
are like a day
to us
sands of the ocean
turn to stone

286

(tanka)

in the Mekong Delta,
rice farmers stumble
on some bones
wrapped in a uniform...
the boots are gone


November 9, 2008

287

(winter)

winter waterfall
is motionless and silent...
his final year

288

(tanka)

as I grow old,
actual lust becomes
a distant memory;
dream lust is always
in the present tense

289

(tanka)

dream: she turns,
then pulls me down
for a kiss
I wake up
50 years older

290

(tanka)

since the future
does not look promising,
I keep a scrapbook
of my own
erotic memories

291

(tanka)

sea shell,
abandoned by the creature
who lived here once...
sometimes love
can be that way

292

(tanka)

tethered to the sun,
Venus is brighter than usual,
and so are you tonight
on the arm
of a rich man


November 16, 2008

293

(winter)

winter
I am the empty space
inside the cello

294

(tanka)

can we pick up
where we left off
years ago
and still live
in the moment?

295

(autumn)

fallen apples
rot in the yard
county coroner

296

(tanka)

trickster memory
deconstructs
reassembles
reenacts
that missed opportunity

297

(tanka)

with nothing better to do,
he sidearms sea shells
into the surf...
divorce papers, still unread,
are on the kitchen table

298

(tanka)

the Safeway clerk
asks me how my day
is going,
but does not wait
for an answer

299

(winter)

last dance
everyone crowds to the window
to watch the falling snow


November 23, 2008

300

(tanka)

we are on our knees
in the garden;
I am weeding, you are planting...
honey bees
move pause move pause

301

(summer)

firing up Windows
my screensaver lake
in the Cascades


November 30, 2008

302

(tanka)

the firelog dissolves
into a small constellation
of embers
so it is
with lust

303

(autumn)

bulldog paper,
heavy with Black Friday ads
a sallow sky

304

(tanka)

Alt+tabbing
on a nothingburger day
at the office—
the spreadsheet hides
an unfinished poem

305

(tanka)

we are haunted
by the young ghosts
of preventive war...
was this war just?
the dead don't care

306

(autumn)

late night parking...
brazen raccoons at the dumpster
tell me to fuck off

307

(tanka)

all of the silence
in this rib cage valley
undergirds
the wings and arc
of a single raptor


December 7, 2008

308

(tanka)

the river
is always leaving its source,
but it never leaves...
the tangled fishhooks
of loves false and true

309

(tanka)

hey, reader—why the face?
I'm doing my best...
just tell me
what you want
and I'll give it to you

310

(tanka)

login password
username and password
do not match...
bright December sun,
unseasonably warm

311

(tanka)

at Starbucks,
a homeless man in the corner
keeps warm
customers in line
joke about cutting back


December 14, 2008

312

(tanka)

you walk out
into the life of someone else
cherry blossoms
are about to die
and I can't stop them

313

(winter)

a small leaf hangs
from what's left of a spider web
the year in ruins

314

(tanka)

as I age,
my face travels west
from amber waves
of grain
to the badlands

315

(tanka)

why am I staring
at a woman ten years younger
than my daughter?
simple answers
to stupid questions

316

(tanka)

falling mist
wrapped in snow
something new
to talk about
as guests depart

317

(winter)

mountain village:
the smell of wood-burning stoves
nostrils open


December 21, 2008

318

(tanka)

when I recall
scenes from childhood,
facts are not
as they were
when I was young

319

(tanka)

giving love
is taking pain;
taking love
is giving pain...
where are you now?

320

(winter)

snowbound at work—
irksome, but oh! so lovely
end of autumn

321

(tanka)

sodium vapor lamps
cast a warm white
over fresh snow
rubbed smooth
by the arctic winds

322

(tanka)

the cheerleader
with the hourglass look
is now old and fat,
but even today
rank has its place

323

(winter)

long winter's night...
in the eye of the corpse,
camera flashes

324

(tanka)

old friends part:
they promise to meet again
some day...
each knows
this is the last time

325

(winter)

snow piled high
azalea branches wear
silly knit caps


December 28, 2008

326

(tanka)

always in motion,
never still: on the river,
on the sea,
in the air,
on the river

327

(tanka)

loose talk
of endless love—
the longer we're together,
the less we need
to talk about it

328

(tanka)

alone with his thoughts,
the great horned owl
sits all night
waiting for a word
to enter his view

329

(summer)

unhurried weekend
cocking my head
to better hear the loon

330

(tanka)

settling in:
Corelli in the headphones,
my first sip of wine...
and now I wait
for a poem to come

331

(tanka)

blizzard conditions
shut down our roads...
e-mail is scarce
when co-workers
are "working from home"

332

(winter)

the pond tries to freeze
glass shards
are pieced together

333

(winter)

yellow snow
young neighbors on the second floor
take a pee

334

(tanka)

the moon
does not think of itself
as an agent of love,
nor the tower
a phallus


January 4, 2009

335

(winter)

vapors rise
in the falling rain
she loves me, she loves me not

336

(tanka)

gloom all around
except for one narrow rift
in the clouds
absolute sunlight
on the glowing green mountain

337

(tanka)

nonchalantly
the brown bear stands astride
the rapids,
and a salmon leaps
into his mouth

338

(winter)

camera click
a wiggly fish hangs from the bill
of the great egret

339

(tanka)

apricot fog
fills up the valley
in the foothills...
behind Mt. Fuji,
a peach sky

340

(winter)

cloud rags cling
to the morning hills
windshield ice

341

(tanka)

end-of-day frustration...
jumping up and down
and spinning around,
my dog likes me
more than I like myself


January 11, 2009

342

(summer)

farm report
the shadow of the windbreak
leans into the field

343

(tanka)

two hills
reach out and join hands
at the river
for want of an e-mail,
the marriage was lost

344

(summer)

a gardenia floats
in mother's silver bowl
summer again

345

(spring)

rainbow...
the architecture
of falling mist

346

(tanka)

if I am only
what I am becoming,
I wonder
what matters
before I get there


February 1, 2009

347

(summer)

dusk darkens
into night...
stars materialize out of nothing

348

(tanka)

I lift my glass to the moon:
the busy world
is hushed,
the fever of life
is over

349

(tanka)

I like the ideas
in Zen
a lot,
but Christianity
has better music

350

(haiku: no season)

we talk about
our news of the day: cancer...
shadows lengthen

351

(tanka)

if you pull
the loose thread
it will all
come apart
cancer


February 8, 2009

352

(tanka)

I snap some needles
of the Jeffrey pine
and breathe in
the heavy odor,
the sweet odor of resin

353

(tanka)

cross-hatched lights
of the L.A. basin
go on forever...
smog alert,
blood twilight

354

(tanka)

death's shadow
comes my way...
I make my plans
for years
of darkness

355

(tanka)

good fellowship
is a lake drying up,
turning to salt;
without distractions,
it's easier to write

356

(winter)

brown tree limbs
push out the green...
teal city rain


February 15, 2009

357

(tanka)

compression of light
into a sallow line,
into nothing...
my feelings of loss
at day's end

358

(tanka)

the past steals time
from the future;
when the progress bar stops
on the far right,
click Play again

359

(tanka)

lately,
all I want is quiet time
alone...
writing
is a solitary craft

360

(tanka)

the false intimacy
of reality TV...
if it has nothing
to do with me,
why am I so embarrassed?

361

(tanka)

in the beginning,
all you have are balls of yarn
and crochet hooks,
and all I have
are words and a laptop

362

(winter)

seasonal affective disorder
clouds rush in to patch
a hole in the sky

363

(tanka)

each Yes/No decision
has for the No path
an opportunity cost...
many watersheds—
just one drop of rain

364

(tanka)

love!
is it really love?
you are here
you are gone
without a trace

365

(tanka)

the double moon
hangs above and floats below
the doe
who stops by the pond
to lick her image