for the gift of having enough, i’m eternally grateful
corn tomatoes beans onions and rice–
i vow to deposit them lovingly into the toilet
with as little fanfare as possible

the walk from town is lined with sweet-smelling trees
and everyone seems to notice, tonight–
even the panhandlers. five years i’ve been in this place
and many things still remain nameless

“It is most noticeable that no one was ever known to whistle Bach.”
- Claude Debussy

walking home from the store, by the ballpark, with my bagfull of greens
whistling the courante from suite number 6
for ‘cello, i finish the movement, and pause, and then “bzzzzzzzzzzt”
the end of the ballgame. in D.

a saucer. chopsticks. kimchee. kimchee. kimchee
kimchee. kimchee. beer and kimchee.
tongue and tummy and grin and kimchee. kimchee
and (did i mention…?) kimchee!

today: first buds on the smoking tree, pale greeny
white, more bright white plum flowers show
a seagull circles, silent. schoolkids screech
what am i forgetting?

embarrassed to sleep, I bask in a lavender moon
air washed clean by a week of rain
i wake to the sound of my friend’s old piano. it’s true:
i’m so tired of being alone

first full moon, plum blossoms, fireworks of pink
laugh through the storm’s final splashes
within these lifeless limbs a subtle warmth
i always seem to forget

these friends, so rare, so unexpected. night
of heartfelt talk and beer. so soon
we’ll part, and i’ll most likely spill some word
i’ll instantly regret

to make a melody: my only task
i ponder when i should decide
prince and callas mingle with the freeway
singing in the shower

the sound of rain– a dampness in the skin
one knows, but doesn’t quite believe
that winter nourishes just as much as spring
within cold bones: hurray!