five years that i’ve not had to wonder where i’m sleeping
but the seeking mind is hard to train
back from a walk, i notice that yesterday’s cherry blossoms
are already littering the ground

duck duck duck duck (sunset) duck duck duck duck
[freewayriver] coot [lagoon]
gopher (in-breath) gopher (out-breath) gopher
EYES (i found my poem)

neglecting my paperwork, i fill a tube with wind
dueling with a gang of songbirds for nobody’s
attention–(not even the spiders’). my friend will arrive
to find dust, and an empty teapot

the weeds in the parking strip clear the cardoor handles
and let’s just say we’re on a first-name basis
with rain. is this any way to spend my vacation–
dreaming of kisses past?

o would that i had found the faith, fair portia,
to borrow the means to sail for such
as thee. instead i’ve clung to what i own:
the vanity of poetry

it’s midnight, yet the sky is evening-blue
two rings embrace the blinding moon
will i ever tire of describing the moon?
better ask the moon

cooling-car-songs. crispest sky. a cat
sips the moon from a street-puddle. what’s
that star in the south, tugging at my eyes
reminding me of…what?

loud drops fall from eaves
step out. near-full
moon burns hole through clouds
no thing more

an aspiration: that my fingers deftly dance
upon my flute-keys with the gentle grace
of the woman braiding her hair in this café
(and to cause this same delight)

several flutes, and several kinds of incense
and sheaves of music strewn about
the wooden buddha suggests i step outside
and i’m not up for an argument