Poem Category: All

Attic sun

the quietness of a doll

losing its face

Custody week

she counts the panties

into her case

A grey day…

then towards dusk

a snowfall from the white Pine

Paper coffee cup

the whole cemetery

moved with the wind

The concrete sets…

adding the nickname

I had from youth

Temple grounds

a gardener‘s gloves resting

in a Buddha‘s lap

Temple Buddha

with a lap to sit in

the frog is given the fly

Vase of flowers

creeping to the sun

on the table cloth

Wild winds

my mind measuring

the loss of sleep

Star crushed sky

walking it home

over our shoulders