How can I miss a
sea rushing wildly from shore
or words never said
Haiku October 7
Poem for Wednesday, oops, Tuesday
Potato brain
Potato brain
deep fried, cottage fried, twice-baked,
and most absolutely and especially
mashed —
everybody join in the chorus: I have got
a whopping potato
for a brain today.
Are tenet and faith the same word, when we’re talking to ourselves?
Even not being there
doesn’t mean that they’re not
there. I mean, I’ve always
thought, that is, I’ve always hoped,
they are
a hair’s breadth out of reach,
one glance
from my trembling, angry, forgiving
and unforgivingly lonely,
missing-them heart.
Sammy
Here
and then again
not here.
A choice? Maybe. A defense?
More likely. The one path still open
for self-determination
when if
is no longer possible,
when where
is no longer possible,
when why
has worn a hole
through a floor scattered with shell casings.
How
still can sometimes
be grasped in our hands.
Fly, dear friend,
with God, with hope,
with all our love.
Summer morning
Gently
Breezes come to the window
Curious, even perhaps eager
To slip inside the room, to tease
The young sprouts growing
On old houseplants.
Aunt
I loved
all
the little children
one
by one they left
taken
to new places by jobs
schools, families, wanderlust,
or the simple busyness of life,
growing up,
growing old
loving their own
little children.
Losing the Edge
I fell
off the concrete
into your eyes.
You let go.
I bandaged my ankle
and loved you.
~from Dancing When the Water Gathers
available at amazon.com
Tsunami
The slow sun turns to morning, burning
through shade and drape like a surgeon’s laser
trims fat. My children ran to catch starfish
when waves peeled back,
ready for one grand
surge,
that took homes, gardens,
and laughter. It is too late now
to build arks or prayers,
and no one in particular
to forgive. There is only the sun
and me watching it.
Available in The Scent of Water on Mirrors
https://amzn.to/31lg4Uj
