a mouse hiding
behind the laundry basket
as though it were a child
that had broken something
I've yet to find

reminding me
of a chalk outline
where a crime
has been committed
the dark edge of water
that has flooded the basement

The "Tribute to Marjorie Content" page has been updated.

my dad unscathed after years
of military service
only to be robbed
and left for dead
in the streets of saint louis

the energy of a song
rewinding itself
no one has to ask
the cicada
for an encore

the request to sign a politician's
birthday card refused
for all the dead soldiers
and civilians who won't
be having any more birthdays

five rockets fired
at a school in Afghanistan
who tells the parents
their missing children
were mistaken for terrorists

The loss of a child is a wound that never heals.

miles from home
the only comfort I find
is in the lacework
of shadows
crossing the wall

in the car
waiting for my son
at airport arrivals
I switch the radio
to his favorite station

looking as though
they've been out
all night partying
the drooping hats
of sunflowers

I don't think I could race
a snail up this hill
with a heat index over 110
even the smallest step
ends in pools of perspiration

a paper cut
while rolling pennies
it's quickly becoming a day
when the best thing to do
is to do nothing

on his tractor explaining
where we should have turned
the farmer's voice
picks up the sound
of a gravel road

the birthday hoopla
as if maintaining
my sanity for another year
is some form
of accomplishment

grayed out faces
in the photograph
our teacher erasing
whatever it was
we had written
on the blackboard

Normally, I write my tanka on five lines. This one is an exception.

"We are linked by blood, and blood is memory without language."

~Joyce Carol Oates

as though a week's vacation
might be longer than
seven days
my son has to sit on
his suitcase to close it

knowing the brutality
of a saint louis summer
the purple coneflower
opens up like
a closed umbrella

endless spam opportunties
I throw away a career
stuffing envelopes
and an offer for valium
without a prescription

not scoring
a single run
the night sky filled
with the all stars
no one voted for

hanging onto the power lines
for six months now
the frail skeleton
of a tree branch
powerless to move on

"A free society is one where it is safe to be unpopular." 

~Adlai E. Stevenson

playing a game
of hide-n-seek
whatever the cat had planned
altered by
the squeak of a door

a replica of one
of the world's greatest
curiosities
the leaning tower of pisa
now dispensing parmesan cheese

a letter in reply
to my corexit concerns
arrives with a personal touch
my pal obama
addresses me as "dear friend"

you can't find
everything on google
or mapquest
my son asking me why
his socks keep disappearing

wending our way through
aisles of department store
we find the deceased founder's
picture in the same hallway
as the restroom

rows of tables
crowded together
like a small city
a stack of pancakes
holding onto the heat

Today is Frida Kahlo's birthday.

open hearts
decorating their dresses
the two fridas
connected by
an artery of pain

brown-eyed susans
re-sculpting the road
where the shoulders are missing
and life has a need to
fill in its empty places

a great way to cool off
before the fireworks start
we're the last ones
to ride the ferris wheel
in the rain

the wave of flags
in the cemetery
this fourth of july weekend
I pledge allegiance
to peace

New pages have been added to the blog as well as updates added to the other pages.


Quote:
A good snapshot stops a moment from running away.
~Eudora Welty


By the time I catch up to the moment, it's already run away.

with a little patience
and some hot water
I manage
to shower away
today's disappointments

the limbs of a willow
never swaying toward
any goal
beyond their reflections
touching the water