A few

so long a time since
last we had a good laugh, yet,
stubborn, we linger



old dance hall

walls long without paint
windows shuttered; yet... listen!
Frail as thought... music...



the first speckles of
rain falling on dry sidewalks;
sounds of feet running



christmas toy

glue... clamps... twine... curses...
assembly instructions that
frustrate all night long



thoughts of love let you
step off the curb into the
blaring taxi horn



a sax, high, manic.
cuts through smoke and boozy chat
and you pause, hearing



Across white sheets, her
black hair flowing as she sleeps.
Outside, the hot streets



A setter leaps.
Quail scatter in the bright sun.
A small boy calls and calls.



rusted hinge squeaking;
a gate swings back and forth, back
and forth in the wind



As if time itself
noticed, all stands hushed as a
finch leaps from a twig



Leaves thick with dew.
By the red hibiscus one
lizard waiting—
dawn breaks.



a wooden pier
scattered fish scales, an
old man tying knots
before dawn



skate curls scratched across
the ice; the winter air ripe
with children's laughter



a sheet of paper
empty... patient... still as time...
this dry search for words