cities – tinywords

recession rising from the factory stacks five small black b i r d s

homeless… a plastic bag drifts across the sidewalk

heat wave at the big city flower market ten thousand shades of radiant yellow

slowly two clouds collide over rush hour

dense fog the train evaporates into a distant horn

flea market~ every old watch keeps its time

autumn afternoon– an empty shopping cart waits at the bus stop

dusk– ten thousand blackbirds and no place to park

lit fish stall open mouths darken in the night

Gogyohka

she slips into the blue haze of memory Staten Island Ferry

deep breath before I enter the panhandler’s aura

in the distance gunshots opening the dark

where street meets sunrise– the steam

traffic jam– my thoughts still in motion

amid fallen leaves a business card still doing its job

Pelham Parkway between the winter trees the child?s breath

morning walk at the crossroads my thoughts flow in Spanglish

commuter platform a harmonica blowing the freight train blues

leaving the Tokyo subway, a hundred umbrellas rise in unison

rooftop garden— climbing the stairs back to nature

gallery tour the ladies gaze at the dozing watchman

park bench pigeons begging the homeless man

department store sale flyers flying

hotel bar: ice shifts and shifts again.

just a flat tire chained to a lamppost waning autumn moon

dead birds at the base of the lit skyscraper autumn midnight

funeral procession the hitchhiker tucks his thumbs in his pockets

sheltered by the bus stop empties

Buddha eyes– a hunchbacked woman sweeps the temple steps

birthday party the new neighbor shows his tattoo

my maternal grandfather passed away on june 22 1980 from black lung … (haibun continues)

dead-end street every house but one boarded up

trailing the snail on the pale gray pavement an ellipsis…

shortest day– the waiting room clock at the ICU

January thaw dog-walkers greet leashed strangers

cherry blossoms drifting down mission street three pink hookers

black fedora the blind man inspects its brim

corner beggar change is everywhere

street preacher the hooker throws a few coins in his hat