Poem Category: Miscellaneous

Too slow to move
the falling Pine slaps
at the axe-man’s face.

Grandparents
their marmalades spread
with the silence of the jar.

In the park
the old dog smells
in and out of the shadows.

Custody week
she counts the panties
into her case.

Shown to the moon
new born first born
turning in my arms.

Grandmother’s wake
her faded gold band
loose on my finger.

Hacienda heat
she brings us thin sliced figs
on a frozen white plate.

Winter sleet
off the white highway
towns in the frost.

So much harvest rice
waits in the rain
for the red hand cart.

Circus
in the ghost train ride
her hummingbird hands.