Loneliness Tanka

alone at dusk
reading Sextweets for Dummies
in my bed...
the ceiling fan makes
a rhythmic humming sound


Published in Eucalypt Challenge, #10, November 2011


(Note: A sextweet, a post on Twitter, consists of a sexually explicit message)

Death Tanka

dust to dust...
all that remains
of his dream:
youtubed videos
in thumbnail view


Published in Eucalypt Challenge (Coining a Word), #10, November 2011

(Note: Youtube, used as a transitive verb, means to upload videos to YouTube)

New Year Tanka

her last words
you can write poems to eat
but I can't...
in my New Year dream
Sisyphus smiles at me


Published in Haiku Pix review, 4, Fall 2011

Moon Haiku

hazy crescent
her lilac perfume drifting
under my door


Published in Haiku Pix review, 4, Fall 2011

Moon Haiku

rice cake ...
the autumn moonshine from
where Mother lives


Published in Haiku Pix review, 4, Fall 2011

Moon Haiku

do you love me
wakes me from sleep...
hazy moon


Published in Haiku Pix review, 4, Fall 2011

Illness Tanka

a spot
on her right lung --
he chain-smokes
for the rest of the day
in front of the TV


Published in Lyrical Passion Poetry E-Zine

Relationship Haiku

she's long gone...
waking, I find myself
holding two pillows


Published in Haiku Pix review, 4, Fall 2011

Frog Haiku

moonlit pond...
a frog jumps
from star to star


Published in Haiku Pix review, 4, Fall 2011

New Year Haiku

first sunrise…
I pull out a small patch
of gray hair


Anthologized in Now This: Contemporary Poems of Beginnings, Renewals and Firsts

Butterfly Haiku

morning tea...
a pair of monarchs landing
on the window sill


Published in Haiku Pix Review, 4, Fall 2011

(note: I haven't received my copy of the journal yet)

Attic Tanka

two geese
fly out of formation
I alone
in the attic count the days
I've been away from home


Published in Presence, 45

A Monostich about Writing

to Latin music a poem dances the cha cha inside me


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

A Monostich about Writing

my dead skin falls into a poem for the ground to read


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

Being-in-the-World: A Tanka Prose

“What is human life?” I once asked my philosophy professor. I didn’t get a satisfactory answer then, and don’t have one even now.

day by day
I get up, eat, read, write
and sleep --
my mind grows grayer
with each night's dream

It is commonly believed that human life is like a blade of grass that sprouts in early spring, grows green and strong in summer, and then, as time slips by, withers in late autumn, and finally dies out in winter.

I stare
at the sun steadily
seeing Death
wave to me
I wave back and start writing


published in Atlas Poetica, #9, Summer 2011
(note: I just found out that this poem was published in Atlas Poetica, #9. No one notified me of this.)

Loneliness Monostich

peeling off layered loneliness I weave a white quilt


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

Moon Monostich

sleeping with banana moon I am pregnant with unborn verse


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

Attic Tanka

living alone
in a four-walled attic
the fifth corner
built with bricks of dream
I feel a lightness of being


published in Ribbons, 7:3, Fall 2011

Loneliness Tanka

moaning sounds
through the motel wall --
I stare
at pink flamingos
on the stained wallpaper


published in Ribbons, 7:3, Fall 2011

Moon Monostich

midnight shedding light on the scars of my past


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

A Tanka about Night Life

the ceilings
are yellowed with grease
the air
heavy with it . . .
smells of Shilin Night Market


published in Atlas Poetica, #10, Fall 2011

Summer Tanka

summer twilight
at the Stonewall Inn
he slides his hand
over the man beside him
murmuring, for real this time?


published in Atlas Poetica, #10, Fall 201

Moon Monostich

moonbeams hit the waves a sea of broken bones


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

Trip of No Return: A Tanka Sequence

reading
In Search of Lost Time
on the plane
she asks
if the past ever passes

we sit
side by side on the balcony
eating gelato
the June moon
comes out and turns red

taking photos of her
pushing the Leaning Tower
of Pisa
those three words
slip out of my mouth

tourists crowd
around Leda and the Swan
I wonder
if our first kiss
was a real one

a homeless man
playing the blues harp
on the steps
in Piazza di Spagna...
a summer cloud passes

gazing
at the moonlit Colosseum
she slips
her hand out of mine
and starts monologuing

Duomo at dusk...
is its shadow
broad enough to cover
the space
between her heart and mine

running outside
into the Venice night air
with the burden
of soaked memories...
I feel the length of longing

standing alone
before a wooden Jesus
in a side chapel
does Adam remember
the dust of his clay

broken shadows
in the moonlit garden
I alone
murmur in my mother tongue
on this dreamless night


published in Atlas Poetica, #10, Fall 2011

Moon Monostich

tears from my mind deface the autumn moon


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

Moon Monostich

living between a rose fingered dawn and an ink dark moon


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

Moon Monostich

moonbeams grace the pond a splash heard


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

Night Monostich

between sleeps the dagger of night stabs into fleshy secrets


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

Winter Haiku

no means no . . .
I count winter stars
in the window


Published in Acorn #27, Fall 2011

Snow Monostich

moonlight ripples through snowflakes


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

A Monostich about Writing

a needle of writing sews up my sensory nerves


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

Black Friday: A Kyoka Sequence

Thanksgiving night
Yo, all the iPods are gone
a man yells to the line
of cross-border shoppers
who camp outside Best Buy

my first time
to sleep at Best Buy
she smiles
as a shouting match
erupts inside the store

the staff yells
the 47-inch flat screens
are sold out
people waiting outside
shiver in the cold morning


Published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

A Tanka about Writing

for hours now
my muse and I
have played hide and seek—
a lone star stares at me
on this Good Friday night


published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011

A Tanka about Geese

migrating
through the ages
geese leave no traces in the sky
...yet never forget
the way home


published in Sketchbook, 6:4, July/August 2011