winter solstice...
picking up myself piece by piece my allusion
falls between the lines of his review winter sunlight reflected from the critic's glasses he slashes
the shifting shadow on the wall below his attic room an alley dog barking |
a shooting star
streaking across the sky loneliness sneaks into my room and mounts on my body flies buzzing...
a one-man funeral in my head bonfire gathering:
the Chinese girl with no bra turns her shoulder, Let the waterfall swallow their gossip |
for weeks
I've had the same dream: the scent of bamboo leaves in the rustling dark the weight of her name...
on a blade of plum grass morning frost all men
are created equal a black teen stares at the Declaration under bulletproof |
dots of light
across his radar screen winter stars on the way to the Zen Center dog dung I accept it and everything else election rally around a banana summer flies the cold moon in a corner of the window: three generations in a one-bedroom apartment pass around the pumpkin pie |
my muse listens
to the hum and strike of my words... that same old look on her Tudor court face tenth winter... my dog and I walk the full moon home holding my book in the crook of her arm she smiles at me the spring sun heaps rubies on the day's shroud cherry petals on the Laughing Buddha bird droppings |
her words hit
hammer-hard spring drizzle our faces reflected in The Virgin of the Milk... has she imagined a child clamping onto her breast at 3 am? I feel lonely with her hand down my pants Valentine's Eve wedding morning... I wake from a dream of entering this pool that contains a giant black octopus |
which kigo to use?
I glance at the day moon gazing at me autumn rain . . .
counting my footsteps on the long trip home once again
I rip my paper to pieces -- on a moonlit night the words dancing in my mind moonlit spider web
in a corner of my room map of Venice waning winter moon
the smell of lovemaking lingers |
this ink dark night...
nostalgia and loneliness circle me two predators waiting for my weak moment nostalgia
is a many-mouthed bird all winter long singing, Please let me haunt as scent on your pillow sickle moon
rubber copies of Van Gogh's ear scattered on the ground Moon Festival
sharing imported mooncakes with my old dog |
a prom dress
in my wife’s closet winter moon autumn twilight…
dueling with my shadow once again like pastry dough
the fingers of my mind work through hometown memories -- lingering scent of mooncakes our last talk
full of might haves, could haves, should haves... snowflakes drifting on this starless night |
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