Tutka Bay Retreat
A sucker for low tides, I walk the beach
instead of doing my homework. Abaft
a tombolo I spook a raft of ten
sea ducks that launch into two perfect
chevrons with military precision.
Category / Poetry
In Shock
he combined consonances
and vowels that escaped your mouth
crawl, unhurried, from across the room
into my ears. Yet, they are as difficult
to decipher as hieroglyphics.
Festival
Crickets and katydids shrilled
through the summer nights, along with music
from the shantytown taverns–
and lightning bugs like struck match embers
floated on a sea of night air.
Wanton
Wanton, verb, “to waste or squander,” thus
to want on and on beyond the musical measures
life provides, over the hump of happiness, and into
precincts where Conscience fades like a distant
radio signal and Temptation spreads
a pretty cloth over a soiled table.
Funereal Rite
Some people recoiled
when I told what I knew
my father would want:
His ashes scattered
Beijing
On a street leading away from
the palace, motorized rickshaws
stand. The drivers shout. And we, ten-
thousand kilometers from home,
Ambidextrous
but not really.
When you have no choice,
you can make your body do
almost anything.
Three Pieces of Paper Left
I am looking for a mask.
Tired and hungry and
breathing dust from arid
mountains blowing
across the city cold hot
My Ticket to Russia
How many times will I pack
my suitcases with so many
layers of sweaters, tights,
wool coat, gloves, scarf, hat,
boots – yes, get ready for
Paid Up
Close your eyes.
You have already paid
for this soft towel
with four bright colors
smooth against your cheek.