HAIKU

I

indeterminate

determination rare sense

more roads and less rain

II

strong roots above ground
sound asylum underneath
mystery triumphs

III
seek slowly the win
buried sureness enchanted
pull hard on the prize

IV
wind has no meaning
empowered romantics breathe
at birth in pursuit

V

miss the waterfall

fall forever until the

road appears again

VI

stay outside the zone
remain if the song has no

entry to stories

VII

from the inside there
is revealed what was hidden

master that and soon

VIII

leave no key unturned
music lifts weights of all kinds

backs left bent or straight

IX

arrive or depart

follow or lead the parade

decision matters

X

I meant to write a
silver tongued message for you
and then I forgot

XI

push wisdom out of
a damp cave of moldy voice

remake what comes next

XII

mad meds in the night
vision comes slowly to light
on a limb we own

where

for Isabel Nuñez

where are you now
on what divine bridge
beneath what magical tree
where are you
in this invisible sea
that spreads before us
lifts present to past
in a wave of remembrance
not meant to last
where are you
when I question
where are you when I ask

will you answer me
with lesser treasures
and give me direction
in smaller measure
making me fill
that footprint I treasure
releasing the trap
becoming untethered

from sharks once abounding
are the Sirens still sounding
is it dangerous now
will I be safe without you
can I miss you somehow
yet hold onto imagine
like an ever faint etching
is this my challenge
my friend
my mentor
your fixer
your dry-eyed repentant
fortune tellers step in
and resolve in a moment
what we stumble on
at the wheel of wonder
am I the drifter
or the driftee

will the tide of
our friendship

move the sea

beneath you
beneath me

I continue to think of you every day…

Pier

all the romance
in travel
begins to unravel
maps throw me off
the going gets rough
what I need most
is trust in the space

disturbed and still focused
not a road to repurpose
or a predestined shelter

instead I crave welter
and chance fresh bedlam

no the road
must be open
no end in sight
the road must be raucous
still paved with amends
that will bring me to
the endless within
the things I find
so easy and queer
all the romance behind me
the loss I hold dear
works best at the
sight of an open expanse
a sea view of future
an endless dance
and nothing
that makes us disappear
you my sweet husband
you are my pier

the art of the feud

she wasn’t looking for good
she knew better
she’d come from a long line
of irreverent slappers
who fought over notes
inconvenient detractors
when life was augmented
and canons redacted
it’s simple he said
it’s all down to order
an enigma she said
if you can’t be bothered
it’s a twisty kind of self-reliance
listen for the code
death is defiance
finish referential
dare to intrude
on what is old
separate her from the flaws
count her among debated encores
the last sheet of music
as the old ones compete
in the cheap seats
defying ugly defeat
she wasn’t looking for good
those errors and flaws
had a way of seduction
that cannot be proven
she wasn’t looking for good
she was looking for human

Tattoo or
dye your hair
rumble instead 
through their lair
though I say 
die your hair
I mean instead
worry that errant tooth
to freedom it’s said
this is age my friend
an unwilling, yet
necessary means
to the end
what to do
where to go
staunch the bleeding or
ignore the foe
I have many, many
things to tell you
I am an original and
not a God-knower
I write in one shot
like a leaded glass
a flash of bourbon comes
unasked
Those fucking ants
fly like the past
you are rid of yet still
it remains
on sugar trails
and I’ll lick the path
until it dissolves
all crudely present
all a sum of unease
I’ll find a way
to do as I please
as I prod my beauty
from my mouth
and accept the loss
that I can live without
a molar a canine a
mouth full of shout
tell me more
I will listen
tell me less
then, I glisten
I’m angry and toothless
it comes with respite
I’m old and I’m breathless
and I can still bite.

IN THE MIDST

in the midst
of the darkness
sweating in the roof 
of a cave I have never 
been party to
well, I was once
a bat who hung
with other bats
we flew off in directions
no compass defined
we hung together
drunk unaligned
sleepy-eyed
grim grimace
the story unfinished
I was a painter
in a field full of dogs
I lifted my brush
and they obeyed
a train rides over suicides
the hall of rock and roll
slips and then fades
I miss you for the
knife wounded soul
I miss you for the release
crazy, unfounded like honey
no grief I miss you like
basket ball, you see
like mold that won’t grow
in a field of unease
but I have you now
a friend aglow
in newly seeded grass
in a truth forever last
in a chapter newly read
in that fearlessness of dead
in a pocketbook escape
in a glass of mental rape
in a way to compost this
in a way
we do not die
we do not rise
we flail among
the sketchy memory well hung
I wanted you
that brain, that relentless
I still do
Happy Birthday Susan
Happy Birthday to you.

at one-oh-nine
in the still questionable morning
from the empty apartment above
I hear footsteps
a warning
I am reading Murakami
hard boiled
like an egg
timed at the edge—
not the end—
of my world with no rhyme
I’m lying awake
next to the one asleep
footsteps on ceilings

spur delicious creep

I watch the screen flicker
it’s him not me
who will rise
with forgiveness
Veronica Lake has been
so appealing
to men who saw me
a child
a girl with a wave
before she turned over
rejected the spell
Pastor Rippe, I said
before he dozed
he called me Veronica
and my father froze
in that sanctuary
of stained glass and stone
my hair fell like
sun in a stranger’s dawn
my father’s response
it all makes sense now
who is walking
across the ceiling
who patrols another man’s floor
depends on how you’re feeling
could be a woman’s door

it is 1:12 in the morning
and all I can hear
is the window fan
like the breathe of a deer

always on
even in winter
even now when the
dulled mind is splintered
the footsteps above
have nerve to confront her
is the quiet now from guilt or murder
is the story less
gruesome as comedy
are the questions less harsh
in the light of day
when remembered this time
this unholy night
after a confessional delay
a friend tells a secret
over curry and raita
the gentle start suffering
earlier in the day
the pain starts as beauty
and often comes later
hold fast to that
in your own wonderland
when the footsteps
appear again
close to the light
cork the wine
pack the valuables
and until morning
goodnight

you are never more here
than when you disappear
in a city on a golden island
what you want is the mortar
between the stones
what you’ll get is the marrow
deep in the bones
you are never more aware
than when you can hear
a common hilarity
laughter foreshadowed
hidden from view
you want to unearth that
make them think you are blind
and write with the pen
of a fearless miner
who tunnels unnoticed
under the pulse
is the first to discover
and gently divulge
what’s laid in the walls
veined with stories
of breathless unrest
you are never more present
never more at your best
in a city on a golden island
the silent landlord
among her tenants
embracing their sins

refuting their penance

you are never more here
than when you disappear