end of the
corporate ladder
autumn thistle
Month: October 2014
He has, you will find,
two modes only, the chipmunk:
fast-forward; rewind.
I practice
letting go . . .
autumn morning
the radio drones
as I shave
my father’s face
breaking the skin
of an overripe peach
harvest moon
Peapods beaded
with raindrops
her arthritic fingers
my mother?s last word
a raised pinkie,
the letter I
in sign language:
our code for ice, more ice
the way
she chooses to die . . .
flowering plum
with her two hands
the artist frames
blue summer sky
the monarch?s shadow
I stop talking
on the phone
unfurling ferns
my mind
empties its thoughts
lightning
the
sword
swallower
swallows
two hands
become a lantern
firefly glow
Declaring a truce
he slurps from his water gun
to cool himself.
running a stick
across the slats ?
spring peepers
festival
the boy too young
not to dance
It’s as if he plays
harmonica, the raccoon
with an ear of maize.
wild mushrooms
all the shades
of autumn clouds
Autumn chill
the sound of the wind
on its way to the sea
through the cracks of sleep night wind
quarantine
an orange peel
fills the room
Addressing the dead?
every room an ear
turned toward me