Wednesday, August 31, 2011

This started out as a tanka and became a cinquain, a related form.

monarch
trains heading south
into the trackless air
dew on the engines that push them
onward
in an untelevised
feat of winter olympics
the gray squirrel's
split-second run
into a back flip



after so many rains
exposed and vulnerable
the roots
of a sycamore
grasping the twilight
I am like
the birds that fly
into windows
I mistake them
for doors that will open

Sunday, August 28, 2011

I refuse to fall asleep
no matter what they give me
in the operating room
the nurse with the magic marker asks,
"Which eye are we doing today?"

Saturday, April 23, 2011

confusion
about where to go
after the tornado sirens
our entire class ends up
in the men's restroom

Monday, October 25, 2010

a new lesson posted
in Spanish
ella es ciega

no glasses strong enough
to lift the fog from my eyes

Sunday, October 24, 2010

threads of rain
ending a long drought
now that I've finished
crossing the bones
of the "pan de muertos"

Saturday, October 23, 2010

a tree knocking
down a powerline
an indoor hike
with a flashlight to find
our way around the house

Friday, October 22, 2010

with the best viewing times
before dawn
once again I will be
sleeping through
the orionids