Category: poem

• high boots go go dancer (haiku)

  leather up the leg,
  all of us women, seduced,
  dance for those eyes dark.

  October 14, 2011

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• untitled 2-1 (when love becomes a stranger)

  night blind
  she sits achingly slow
  next to the body

  every wall shadow
  watches as shoulders
  on two wrists, bend

  the form senses
  the weight but stirs
  only one eye.

  October 13, 2011

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• anniversary haiku

  these years later, when
  taking my hand, you know how
  each freckle took form.

  October 12, 2011

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• and in california wine country

  and in california wine country
  there is one cloud that spills rain
  in a grey sheen on the horizon
  while over here, sun sun on the vines
  shimmers emerald with shades of
  dark moss. the smell of fermintation
  reminds us of the season; the constant
  turning of one thing,
  into another.
  and one hand runs the wire
  while the other swirls, and swirls.

  October 11, 2011

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• if only

  how i remember
  the way your head tilted
  strangely off balance when
  you were angry with me
  and how the songs of Chicago
  could make you close your
  eyes and sway
  if only you were here just
  one more time, if only,

  October 6, 2011

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• oh how the city shines

  and the bike lane takes me around the
  belly of the city
  business suits walk by
  staring and moving
  identical parts
  then there is this man
  playing trumpet
  and only the lapping harbor gives
  a hand.

  bike wheels squeal, delighted around the turn
  oh how the city shines
  like a girl preening in the mirror.

  October 5, 2011

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• scents rich (or making dinner)

  from the gas stove
  a sizzle

  [move quick –
  and stir the wok, flip the
  frying tofu,
  while the rice pot
  boils]

  the table is set and your hands
  folded
  compliment the
  napkins bowed
  carefully in half

  gas flames flicker off,
  settle down,

  scents rich then fill
  noses with a quiet
  anticipation

  October 3, 2011

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• trophy (haiku)

  coveted prize, she
  shines like a trophy, winning,
  and gathering dust.

  September 30, 2011

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• girlhood crush, regressing

  girlhood crush, regressing,
  he now seems
  that one cool boy who sleeps
  through philosophy
  (the intro class)
  with the teacher who
  never turns around
  unless that dream of falling
  snaps the boy awake
  with a crash

  he seems now
  a distant pair of eyes
  compelling me
  to learn a secret – lean in.

  September 30, 2011

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• filling the blank space doesn’t mean you care (to a poet)

  despite such a lyrical stance
  he cares nothing for me

  he cares only for a hurried
  quickening breath

  or the still life
  of a sparrow who turns,
  examining the ground

  he does not care for my
  pen hovering

  or my sudden lack of trying

  although he does suffer
  (as we must)
  finding words to create
  this…
  _____.

  September 28, 2011

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