Category: Issue 05

carnival– feeling the seam of my empty pocket

a blonde girl, wearing a pink skirt, on a blue bike, willed the red light green

after his death the peace lily blooms again

cottonwood– a plastic dump truck in the freckled shade

thunderstorms– tadpoles swimming in my porch

the shallows — waves run in on tiny feet

raining sunset– a rainbow fades into the horizon

surrounding the quiet bungalow yellow crime scene tape

thistle field nothing sticks to the stone buddha

with my finger I trace the delicate pattern lace wing butterfly

trying not to look again, she adjusts her blouse v

eyelash moon the cobalt sky holds her silence

the neighbour wanting a fence just like the neighbour’s

writing letters home a yellow-eyed cat hunts moths beneath the lantern

midday sun– a tree frog on the french door turns translucent

nude beach a man and a woman collect shells

yard sale the Venus de Milo marked ”as is””

on the lake a stiff breeze adds crests to half the birds

Reminding myself how colorful they are bagging fallen leaves

waning moon– her half cup bra slung over the chair

prairie dawn above a buffalo herd slowly rising steam

city skyscape a palm tree shimmies amidst construction cranes

fishing in the rain — I let a rainbow trout off the hook

morning downpour . . . only the sound of the temple bell stays dry

a black bird on the white fence post sheet lightning

morning dew in the autumn wind a newborn’s cry

a copper penny slips into the dark pocket of the evening sky

morning stillness the street vendor sorts vegetables

morning mist — the foghorn drowned out by the waves

deserted town … the freight train leaves behind an empty whistle

luffing of wings — two low-flying geese riffle the lake

over the brown field a frisbee barely missing the airplane

quiet morning even the poplars are silent

garage cleaning day my father’s fishing pole wrapped in dust

fading light the old man and his cracked tea cup

drowsy — a few desultory flakes fall intermittent- ly

steam-filled market mistletoe tethered to a meat-hook

my toddler’s fine hair a spider web shines in the dawn

on the Indian mound a collection of tire grooves

first snow a passing child sticks out her tongue