07-30-2007

as if i can
sit still like the
monk i
i bow to on my
way to buy meat


i cross the
rope bridge into
Oz, unaware
of the dragon tugging
at my pant-legs


waiting with
cricket for a reply
to songs sung
on the underside
of granite stone


strange how the
flow of water
stills my soul;
this transience
of things unsaid


as much as
i want to, i
can't see
myself in a caption
above your head


already she
choreographs the
where-to's with
hows wading in and
out muddy rice fields


dry grass . . .
there was a time when
you welcomed
me in your bed,
warts and all


sandwiched
between your thighs,
wisps of
yesterday float down
river into nightfall


let me know
when the coast is
clear, i
am enamored
with brother tree


cobwebs . . .
the hem of your
skirt miming
a jellyfish
sucking air


water's shadow . . .
it's the unanswered
questions that
keep me from crossing
this rope bridge

.
come dawn, in
a pool of vomit,
wondering
if i can make it
through the labyrinth


in a few
more days, dragon,
we can
resume what we
left off years ago


to be a
jellyfish floating
in her dreams
and nothing
to cover the light


at dusk . . .
bowing deeply
to the
shadows that turned
them into straw statues

07-21-2007

where will you
be when the lizard's
had his fill
and morning has
no memory of night?


i have no
lover or close
friends,
except this pen
except this pen


i want to
be accepted like
every child
without a mother
hanging from tree branches


only the
moon to chase me
from a cloud
i've been to a
thousand times before


in my closet,
words i should have used
in the last poem
i sent you, pretending
to be something i'm not


the wind . . .
it's as if i dropped
LSD and
couldn't decide which
of me is real!


is it safe
to walk naked
in a room
full of ex-soldiers
without a hard on?

07-15-2007

in sync with
the cicada's
sad wail . . .
tapping my fingers
on granite rock


i heard
somewhere that
egret's
are wannabe reeds
courting stillness


snail, is
there room for one
more?
i am tired of
living in a bowl!


early dawn . . .
my reflection
won't let me
be the man i
dreamt of being


a light sleeper,
the dragonfly,
watering
villages with
shards of light


how the hell
can i sleep knowing
you're on the
other side of the mirror
listening to grass?


a brother
to snails, the
rice picker,
living most of her
life in water


how i wish
the darkness before
me would speak . . .
a word , a
raspy voiced word


waiting for me
in the coolness
of a salmon's
shadow, i pull up
my pant legs


and the turtle . . .
poking his head
up from the
pond to see if
shadows breathe


she popped out
of the brightly
painted box
wearing a another
woman's nightgown


were i a
bird, i'd perch on
the bubble
above your head and
sing to your dreams

07-12-2007

i was
somewhere else
the last few
days, drifting in
and out of summer


i sat on
the deck watching
fireworks,
and when i closed
my eyes . . . the dragon!


i lay in
bed waiting vainly
for the world
to stop chasing
clouds with a stick


can i join
you under the table
where you sleep,
reinventing
yesterday?


were you more
than a fantasy,
I would
paint over the night
with your breasts


in a black
hole waiting for
the stars to
pop up like small
jack-in-the-boxes


what can i
do when the mind
shuts down,
leaving stuffed
animals homeless?


late winter . . .
the kid i used
to be, throws
paper balls on the
poem i'm writing


i too want
to be knee deep
in heaven's
river, washing
your back with stars


nurse me
under the stained
glass window
we shared when i
was to young to care



after the war,
i retreated into the
space i found
myself trapped in . . .
sandwiched between lines


moonless night
my daughter sits
under a tree
at camp, wondering what
to do with her hormones


morning shade . . .
i sweep the night
under an
elm tree planted
with my wife's ashes


twilight dusk . . .
waiting for the
music
under a canopy
of stars


sunrise . . .
if i were a
statue, would
you lay bowls of
fruit at my feet?


foolish me,
i placed you in
a box
and forgot where
I'd hidden you


carry me,
crow, into the
song my wife
sings on a rock
made of some day

06-26-2007

at long last,
your words become
a face i
can follow down
an ocean path


breathing through
my nose until words
become the
stars I hang on
trees in winter


my tongue paints
a jackson pollock
between your
breasts and still no
sign of summer


high noon . . .
ants carry food to
the overweight queen


opting not
to work this morning . . .
my breath on
a journey to
the western land


teaching each
other, lizard,
the silence that
ambles past us
in clumps of thought


the air you
breathe is an old
song plodding
through the forest
without a backpack


an old man
fishes in dreams,
and me,
without a shadow
to mend the clouds


coming home
from a day at work . . .
children sneak
past me chasing
cloud dog's tails


where are you
when i wake up?
. . . like the moon,
an earring easing
into clouds


at night, i
take off my clothing
to wade through
the clouds i painted
above your bed


peeling off a
smile painted when
dreams hawked
newspapers on
black and white corners

06-21-2007

ashes the
ocean couldn't
swallow . . .
tasting them under
a veiled moon


a puzzle,
the rocks that form
this pathway
to nowhere . . .
a stagnant moon


sing to me
water, the song
sung in
mother's womb,
without the tide


walk with me
around the lake
that whispers
moon . . . stepping
between shadows


would things be
different if you
were a stream
in no hurry
to pass through me?


and the
echo of rain . . .
chanting
mantras on a
seagull's back


she lays on
her back staring
up at the
wall that could have
been her lover


her breath
blankets me now
in the gray
womb i let go of
in the hospital


i too sit
on top of the world
skipping stars
across a vastness
unimpressed with ego


you felt what
i was feeling
that night on
a rooftop with
out an atlas


do you think
the world revolves
around you,
a granite stone
moored in clouds?


up late,
crocheting her
life on the
ceiling she pretends
is not a mirror


a child, i
would have sung with
you the song
we sang when every-
thing was black and white

06-03-2007

i spent the
night pasting words
on tea leaves
listening to my,
shadow bend stars


summer wind . . .
he waltzes past
me into
a field of
folded paper


summer
staggers into the
melon patch
wearing an over
sized t-shirt


the gauze
around your face
unable
to muffle a
blossom's cries


think of me
as a canyon wall
returning
your words one
syllable at a time


tomorrow
you return from
your trip
overseas with a
bag of dried fish


overcast sky . . .
the wall between
us, a
stand of trees
planted too quickly


you want me
to be a children's doll . . .
something to
stare at when the
moon is indisposed


by now you
are looking at your
family,
wondering if the
replay button works

06-12-2007

on a whim,
i took you to a
nearby restaurant
and fed you bits
of yesterday


at noon, he
tries on shadow
after shadow
looking for a
comfortable fit


summer rain,
and like you in
our bed
this evening, a
complete surprise


she walks
across the rice
field,
peddling moonlight
to young dreamers


serenaded
by crickets, a
rainbow
floating in the
moon's stillness


sleeping
for hours in
the water
mother jettisoned
with her final breath


poor mole,
he didn't know
what to do
or say when the
wind tickled his nose!


i will never
abandon you . . .
between
canyon walls, a voice
talking backwards


the lechon
on my table begged
to be a
part of this poem . . .
summer wind

05-28-2007

They offered
my head on a
platter
saying I'd be
a fool not to take it


darkness
thickens around
my groin
without the stars
of a latter day moon


buddha in
me stares past the
stars into
a darkness with
no beginning


the cry of
the egg seller
at night
arguing with
a drunken moon


dragon visits
you when the moon
has nothing
more to say . . . the
stench of words


the lines on
my hands remind
me of my
father walking
between mirrors


only a slice
left of the moon
that stood me
up on the far
side of madness


blossoms
gag on their own
vomit
in a wonderland
without water


in a withered
field, this child,
without mother
drinking dreams from
a bowl of stars


if only i
could can tomorrow
into a
little jar and toss
it over the bridge!


can i, brother
fish, rock with you
in the kelp
beds of a far-off
dream plucking words?


i am becoming
comfortable in
your absence
walking with clouds
unafraid of stillness


i envy you,
marmot, choosing when
and where you
sleep, the wind
miming butterflies


on the nape
of her neck, the
faint odor
of rice dancing
with cheap perfume


you flew
across the ocean
without an
echo to chase me
into mirrors