Mirrors: a
sequence
alone
in the apartment
the mirror’s all mine
looking at
the morning mirror…
you still here?
leave me alone
he yells
at the mirror
morning--
no meeting of eyes
in the mirror
the mirror
father one day
mother the next
*
midnight tolls twelve
what else
can one count on?
*
midnight—
from silence, words
from words, silence
*
date cancelled
the moon
shows up
*
tomorrow’s the full moon
why do I
feel
so empty
*
the moon
too full
tonight
thank God for clouds
*
red Ford roaring louder
than the Lion of Judah--
Rasta car!
*
spider string in my guitar
even the silence
off tune
*
the islands I run to
the same islands
I run from
*
let the fog roll in--
lost in what's seen
and not seen
*
the new moon talks to me
for some reason
the new neighbors don't
*
for a moment
sharing the full moon
with no one
*
dead moon
over Dead Sea
dying
*
after the crowd leaves
the Holy Shrine
the mystery returns
*
her shoes
left behind—
the phantom guest
*
next week maybe
the lunch date
we won’t put off
*
between my lips
and yours
hot air
*
lover’s moon
I take a pillow
to a darker room
*
love poems
or death sentences
maybe both
*
man and wife
folding sheets again
making ends meet
*
my occupation
mouthing mantras
with the carp
*
eye contact—
looking at the same books
in the book store
*
burning popcorn—
my first wife
still my first wife
*
one flower
no bouquet
an individualist at heart
*
getting closer
only one blanket
between us
*
turning off
the answering machine
answering to each other
*
after love
medical exam—
her ear to my chest
*
past midnight
something bright eyed
in the dark
*
in the dark
tongue on tongue
speechless
*
tired of talking
to the walls
he opens the windows
*
writing an offhand letter
weighing every word
over and over
*
kissing
the apple
she bites into it
*
beneath the doormat
a note from
last year’s lover
*
beach gal
with the unforgettable body
what was her name?
*
with her
the rain
was friendlier
*
summer moon
the cool
of her cold shoulder
her cold shoulder
the sand
still warm
*
single mom pairing socks—
not easy to find
the proper mate
*
end of the affair—
throwing away
half used candles
*
on my own
the same restaurant
not the same
*
headache
out of the blue
no one’s home again
*
stroking the woman’s belly
the cat
also on its back
*
first meeting
she smiles
as if she knows too much
*
all night
busy with
a forgotten lover
*
about to leave—
phone rings
I leave anyway
*
longest night
every dream
dark and darker
*
leaving
without a word
my funeral
*
my lady and I
toasting our death
with cold dark laughter
gamblers betting
on who dies first
for insurance
*
in the dark
the taste
of her cherry lipstick
*
your choked voice
my muted yell
we embrace each other’s panics
*
at sixty
still running away
from home
at sixty
a grown up stranger
calls me dad
*
open secrets—
two grown women in the kitchen
the daughter crying
*
daughter’s gone
so many empty hangers
left behind
*
grown children
still making me
grow
*
chipped cup
who will dare
to throw it out
*
stuffed wallet
old fortune cooky fortune
still wrong
*
stolen wallet
the weight of its loss
the loss of its weight
*
laundered poem
in a shirt pocket
ink washed out
*
making money
out of dirt
the laundromat
*
too many diplomas
on the wall
what's he trying to prove?
*
stuck on old news—
stopped by one headline
after another
*
singing after the diagnosis
"I'm going to miss me
when I'm gone"
*
on the radio
everything
I don’t want to hear
*
empty niche
of the Stolen Virgin—
poor people’s church
Guatemala
*
perfect morning shot
lost
trying for the moment
*
after NY
still walking
too fast
*
senior discount?
damn!
the ticket seller buys it
*
bend for a nickel
bend for a dime
but a penny?
*
the extra lottery ticket
rejected
by a beggar
*
Sequence
forgetting
the cemetery’s name
how can I reach my parents?
cemetery—
beating the rain
to the gate
map to the cemetery
leads to a dead end
I’m lost
cemetery—
to which stones
am I related?
in these crowded fields
of tombstones
the only visitor
on my
knees
between graves
a hand on each stone
this last visit
to your graves…
probably the last
Staten Island, NY
*
year after year
the unvisited dead
keep visiting
*
no one visits
my parents' grave...
they have each other
*
still brooding
about the children
we could have had
*
lost at birth
the flowers too big
the coffin too small
*
all that sleep and not one dream
*
lost my place
prayers I once knew
by heart
*
in the mall’s
wishing well
no recession
*
the good thing
about bad timing
it could have been worse
*
another loss—
I spell in memoriam
correctly
*
stolen
wallet
the weight of its loss
the loss of its weight
*
hoping for
state of the art—
H-SPIT-L
*
hospital room
snipping sick blooms
from the bouquet
*
positive diagnosis
making a new list
of books to read
*
last hospital
visit
wanting to say
something more
*
dark cellar
everything waits for the light
to be turned on again
*
thrift store
buying back the dolls
she gave away
*
long distance
speaking again
in my first language
*
first morning without back pain
afraid to jump up
for joy
*
every trip
to the hilltop
draws blood
*
Iraq War
first day of war—
phone calls
from old friends
no one
and everyone
on the frontline
war news at noon--
a mountain dove
flies off the porch
7 PM news
she twists the gray lock
on her forehead
dead soldiers
silent
dinner guests
cycle of conflict
peach marchers
in wheelchairs
*
closing time
the gravestones
still warm
*
joking
with my dead father
I wake up smiling
*
covering her with a sheet
I wonder if
she’ll cover me
*
guest book
at the Holocaust museum—
what can I say?
*
Parkinson’s Poems:
a sequence
over the hill
learning to walk
again
shortcuts
growing longer
every year
poet
counting stairs
and syllables
after the diagnosis
every day
Halloween
names of things
that don’t matter
suddenly matter
friend or foe—
shadow
at my right shoulder
too many crows
my voice
no longer my voice
out of the deep
nightmares
so buoyant
gasping for air
nightmares float
to the surface
over and over
learning to say
Parkinson’s
*
at the moment of insight
the pencil point
snaps off
all the pencils
in the jar
pointless
*
stray dog
not a bark
left in it
*
New Year’s party
should I darken
my hair
*
New Year's--where to begin
climbing up
to the New Year’s party
short of breath
*
New Year’s
no one wants to go
anywhere
*
past New Year’s
no card from
a punctual friend
*
uninvited
New Year’s
comes and goes
*
those last minutes
before New Year's
countdown to loneliness
*
looking toward
the New Year
she buys two graves
*
New Year
getting older
with each newscast
*
New Year's
the old broom
scatters its own straws
*
twenty days
into the New Year
and still no calendar
*
Politics: a sequence
bees
over the garbage can
workers of the world unite
canary obituaries—running out of ink
airport—
the hole in my sock
caught by homeland security
miles of fences dividing the miles
climate change—
will the cicadas rev up
on schedule?
spring—
a riot of blossoms
blood in the streets
*
America...
the breasts I believed in
deflated
*
unemployed--
no stigma
on a Sunday
*
alone in Tiananmen Square
a militant woman demands
Where's your group!
*
Getting older
Azheimer's--
she asks her son
Haven't we met before
Happy Birthday!
my five o'clock shadow
all white
old ballroom dancer
cane and crutch
her partners
retired
looking forward to Sunday
a day of rest
pushing open the door
to old age
a brand new cane
poems about
growing old
where did I put them?
*
condoms in the drawer too old to use
*
mountaintop
eyes closed
meditating on the view
*
gone in a car crash
the guy who brought me
up to speed
*
old friend
going to the viewing
unable to view
*
bird in a cage
when will you return
my affection?
*
so deep inside her
I forgot
where I came from
*
dry season’s
over
her hair overflowing
the pillow
*
near the pond
my childhood
my children's childhood
*
thrift store--
still collecting toys
for the child she doesn't have
*
spring and death
can't separate the two
not in my family
*
chest paints--
time for one more
death poem?
*
half the
daffodils
cut down by a heartless stranger
damn squirrel!
*
one more poem
about the pines
and I'll strike a match
*
old love letters
in the rain
bleeding
*
testing, testing
she
listens
to the avocado
*
yesterday’s hitchhiker
today’s driver
passing a hitchhiker
*
children grown
and flown
once I was a father
*
Invented Kanji: a
sequence
kanji:
as near as
you can get
without getting there
kanji:
stone shattering
the lunar pond
kanji:
speaking silently
with the silent
kanji:
the inner voice
of the snapdragon
kanji:
the moon
in the absence of
the moon
kanji:
dark cup
deepening the hour
kanji:
near enough
but not quite there
*
telemarketer
mispronouncing
my pen name
*
the nail
driven home
bends at the last blow
*
equinox
all things being equal
they’re not
*
off color haiku always colorful
*
unknown pill
take one
before dying
*
old poet still a messenger boy
*
talking haiku
her attention span
too short
*
deaf couple just met
finishing each other’s
sentences
*
subway crush hour
the closest I’ve come
to anyone all day
*
high tech—
windsock
at the airport
*
flea market—
books that moved me
not moving
his ex and his girl friend
heading for the same
cheap romances
*
watching a murder mystery I lose my
wife
*
out of luck
in
flight
no wood to knock wood
*
on the headstones
big or small--
moss
*
parents--
headstones
at peace
*
birthday speed limit
the ground
a blur
*
please take my name
off your mailing list
it’s on a tombstone
*
on his deathbed
he asks
for a cat
*
to go
to stay
the half moon
can’t give a full answer
*
still hopeful
the moon
getting bigger
*
Santa Ana’s silver…
a legend
still buried in the garden
Villa
Santana, St. Thomas, VI ,
occupied by General Santa Ana,
1850-1955
*
Operation New Year's
throat operation--
no food no water
no parties
twelve hours to New Year's...
countdown
to anesthesia
doctor
to poet:
don't sing
waking up
my own voice
greets me
going home
on a high note
minus the high notes
still woozy
I lip synch
into the millenium
in full voice
outside the hospital
migrating seagulls
alone
with the guitar
can’t even sing the blues
*
distant crows
my voice
also fading
*
slot machine life
after nearly giving up
sudden change
*
speaking about Basho
a frog
in his throat
*
pregnant student
eats for two
cramming for the test
*
at a fork
in the road
I flip a coin
*
afterglow
what I meant to tell you
escapes me
*
Pretty Women
postcard carousel
the pretty tourist
turns my head
no longer touching the piano
the girl who practiced
every day
pretty checkout gal
the line
slows down
Saturday night
oh god oh god oh god
my neighbor finds religion
serious turbulence
the pretty stewardess
I’ll never see again
*
meeting
at a fork in the road
bilingual
*
moving day
throwing out half a dozen
languages
*
living
longer
poems
shorter
*
eye contact
she says hello
to her cell phone
*
not my holiday
still I sing
the words and music
*
crazy moon
the less said
the better
*
small island
small talk
grows smaller
*
coming to the memorial a day too
late
*
full moon at fifty
I can still lie
about my age
*
Body art
young mom
the doll too
has her nose pierced
student hangout--
I see eye to eye
with her naval ring
class secrets--
young moms
comparing tattoos
free of tattoos
the tattoo artist
with lip rings
tattoo lady
tells me she has limits
even for tattoos
*
War Stories: a
sequence
rescuing
a Rembrandt
in the debris
too much ammo––
shooting
what’s been shot
armed with chocolate
liberating
a minor crematorium
liberator
but not free
to talk
running out of funerals
details growing
dimmer
father’s
posthumous papers
burning his secrets
stuck in WW II
looking
for my family
*
among headstones
the tallest wins
a pigeon
*
mother
tongue
wave after wave
salted away
*
At death's door
at death's door
wondering if it's
the right door
at death's door
is the back door
open?
at death's door
the intercom
permanently out of order
*
At the Kotel:
a sequence
Western Wall
origami bird
stuck in a crevice
one dove
one memory
folds into another
folding
and unfolding
the last fold
a child
wants it to fly—
abracadabra!
paper prayer
still clinging to a stone
l’chaim
*
moonlight
her smile
too bright
writing down her address
I promise
not to write
*
vacation over
no longer knowing
where things are
*
Quiet City
window shopping
I double back
to catch my double
quiet city
ear plugs forgotten
in my ears
same station
different exit
I’m lost
*
haiku romance––
to send or not to send
a postcard
*
waste basket
checking it for something
to write on
*
bits of paper
with writing on them—
tickets for crickets
*
missing deadline
after deadline
my broken lifeline
*
missing
every deadline
attending the dying
*
on my knees
between their graves
a hand on each stone
*
drill on tooth
the nowness
of the moment
*
changing the sheets
in the terminal ward
the nurse sings out
Next!
*
The Wall: a sequence
Vietnam Wall
so polished so
dark
the need to touch it
Vietnam
Wall
cold in winter
cold in summer
up against the Wall
windblown daily
spreading Iraq
news
the next
memorial
already in the
air
autumn chill
Vietnam Wall
so many names
named
the blind vet
searches for a name
with his fingers
*
in the park
of the unknown horseman
the unknown visitor
*
homeless Santa
his shopping cart
filled to the brim
*
at rush hour
I know
everybody
*
right in front
of my nose
the breath I forgot
*
me and my
passport photo
just introduced
*
blind man
in the subway
whistling in the dark
*
homeless man
goes from park bench
to park bench
*
widower
talking to his dead wife
no more silent treatment
*
shopping for condoms
secretly checking
the hair darkeners
*
over the hill
into the blinding sun
i step on the gas
*
sleepless--
either it's the moon
or the woman next to me
*
shortest day
and I sleep away
the afternoon!
*
subway home
every face
a different language
*
somebody send me an email
I'm feeling lonely
in a crowd
*
another painting finished
the day not wasted
on words
*
no matter how
loud
the bell
it’s hollow
*
after the
break-in
something is missing
missing or not
*
detention center
relatives on line
also doing time
*
now that things
are not settled
I can relax
*
common thread
loose ends
seeking a perfect match
*
cancer hospital
nurse lights up
no one’s judging
*
Obits
reading obituaries--
checking out people
checking out
another condolence call
harvest moon
at the door
waking up
to mourning doves
whose funeral
another friend gone
the new phone directory
already passé
headlights at noon
a caravan of black sedans
illuminating nothing
house painting
the obituary page
beneath the ladder
post-op
I get to
read
another obit!
tool chest
used screws and bent nails
my legacy
*
Jerusalem: a
sequence
mother tongue--
whatever echoes
from the Wall
full moon
over Jerusalem
undivided
with or without glasses,
I close my eyes
to see Jerusalem
kaddish
none of the mourners
understand a word
*
something’s burning—
the world on TV
dinner on the stove
*
preceding bride and groom
the tail wagging
dog of
honor
2000
*
a bug in the bug book
small, nameless
alive
*
another year
older
not a wrinkle
on the moon
1988
*
even in a slum
the moon makes
house calls
*
car radio reports
jailbreak
driver gives me
a sidelong glance
*
eyes
keeping me
in the dark
*
Washington Square
i walk in the
footsteps
of pigeons
*
New York
pigeons
pecking a bigger hole
in the bagel
*
jealous wife
the cat
purrs
at his feet
*
complaining
no hot water
Landlord yells communist!
*
yelling look, look!
into the crowd
he points to nothing
*
death on Monday
the rest of the week
should be easy
*
at 30,000 feet
child looks out the window
Why aren't we moving?
*
four billion
years
of evolution––
the baby in my arms
*
thrift store––
still collecting toys
for the grandchild she’ll never have
*
tool chest
used screws and bent nails
my legacy
*
one year to live--
once an English
class assignment!
*
Ryoanji: a sequence
Ryoanji sparrows
no place to take
a dustbath
fully employed again
in autumn
the man with the rock garden
rake
if onIy I could see Ryoanji
under moonlight
under snow
last visit to Ryoanji
pocketing
a wayward pebble
a pebble
from Ryoanji
only a pebble
*
The Way: a sequence
moonlighting
I plant stones
in the garden
gravel escapes
I kick it back once
twice
my gravel path
easy on the eye
hard on bare feet
*
good neighbor
the moon behind
barbed wire
*
Writing Haiku: a sequence
haiku morning
hot drink
getting cold
in haiku country
we share a notebook—
who wrote what?
old haiku
illegible
pure genius
day old haiku
still fresh—
or stale?
old age—
poems I start
disappear
yesterday’s haiku
today—
still in the moment...
*
Fire: a sequence
the firemen
helpless
how can I put out the echoes?
the room we loved in
after months apart--
roof gone
library
of light reading
simply turned to light
the black phone
that told me of my father's death
melts down to thin air
*
describing the moon
to the blind
is it a man or a rabbit
*
face to face
with an iguana--it blinks
two billion years
*
nurses I once took
out
take me out
with a needle
*
condolence cards
how long
before
we throw them out
*
crowded subway
a woman yells who’s hand is that
which hand?
*
spectacular sunsets—artist
unknown
*
stroking the moss
between her legs…
the Japanese
garden
*
in flight turbulence
no wood to
knock wood on
*
sign language
on the plane
hands flying
*
in the dead of night
dead friends
drop in
*
the dead ignore visiting hours
*
two stones
casting long shadows
parents
*
Mother's Day
Mother's day
the cemetery
pays me a visit
so tight lipped
even after death
she tells me nothing
with mother's death
where is my
mother tongue?
at the grave's edge
a dandelion
holds on for dear life
*
deep night
face to face
with the answer
*
family cemetery
the silent treatment
never ends
*
God is my judge
thank God
I’m an atheist
*
quiet mind
quiet heart
if only
*
old age--
poems I start
disappear
*
over the fancy ironwork
a spider weaves
its web
*
deep into one lover
I recall
another
*
talking to no one
I thought
you were home
*
he said
she said
say what you will it’s been said
*
the poet
I once knew
too crazy for words
*
every out of season flower
except the one
I wanted
*
the heat!
Hokusai’s wave
in a bookstore window
*
100 ants
pallbearers
for a bee
*
watching lizards do push-ups
he gets up stiff
from the old cane chair
*
she reads the poem
on the bus
lips moving
*
you read my poem
and stop me from interrupting--
a compliment!
*
kneeling at the curb
I pay homage
to someone's discarded books
*
define
the undefinable
go ahead
*
a gathering of strangers
to usher in the New Year--
how strange
*
guards on motorbikes
bumble bees disturbing
the peace
*
the best haiku
hide
in the margins
*
after the show
the mime's eager
to talk shop
*
carnival's over--
the masks go back on
for another year
*
inch by inch
the advancing sun
forces us off the verandah
*
am I the first
to see the evening star?
beginner's luck!
*
menage a trois--
sunlight comes
between us
*
too thin
the weight of my friend
weighs on me
*
forgetting
what I forgot
all night long
*
the whirlpool
beneath the cliff—
how tempting
*
evening
the neighbor's lilac
is mine
*
lightning now lightning then
flash forward flash back
April
*
overgrown
undergrowth
the path lost again
*
road map
folded in
all
the wrong directions
*
“you don’t want to go there”
but that’s exactly
where I want to go
*
salad bowl--
the fly is also
a vegetarian
*
dirty word
on a dusty windshield
I see through it
*
intoxicating moon--
I pull over
and arrest myself
*
bartender's calendar
full moon
circled in red
*
fruitless cactus
stretching its thorny palm out to me
the gypsy
*
Baseball Seasons: a sequence
Spring training—
grasshoppers
take the outfield
a line drive
scatters
the outfield sparrows
out in the infield
between pop flies
dragonflies
the scent of hot dogs
rises with the
national anthem
a high note—
singing Francis Scott Key
off key
batter bunts
grasshopper leaps
toward second
no outs, no hits, no errors
one grasshopper
left on base
three pigeons
on the scoreboard
the only score
a dust devil
dusts off
homeplate
out of control
on the pitcher’s mound—
a whirlwind
heckling
the umpire—
passing crows
loud
over the bleachers—
the cicadas
bases loaded
dark clouds
overhead
time out for rain
sparrows huddle
in the dugout
three and two the count
pitcher goes into the windup—
crack of thunder
curve ball—
the batter too eager
to straighten it out
pinch hitter
on the bench
jaws working overtime
POP
goes the bubblegum—
a home run!
last to leave
the ballpark
sparrows’ clean up crew
season’s over—
baseball cards
change teams
behind home plate
tall grass
catches the wind
red leaves
press against
the outfield fence
abandoned diamond—
snowflakes
in the field
*
Note for “Baseball Seasons”:
Haiku are short poems written in a
Japanese poetic form that came into
its own in the 17th century.
Traditional Japanese haiku consist
of three lines adding up to
seventeen sound units (onji).
Seventeen onji in Japanese equal
about twelve syllables in English,
sometimes more, sometimes less, but
many people prefer to write haiku
strictly in lines of 5-7-5 syllables
each. Either way is fine as long as
it retains the haiku spirit. Haiku
try to capture the moment, without
simile or metaphor—what is as is.
Haiku usually include a word which
locates the poem in a particular
season. Firefly is a summer word,
snow a winter one. Haiku often
include more than you’d expect in
such short poems: comparisons and
contrasts, surprising connections,
double and triple meaning, sound
effects, word play….
In the U.S. we like to write poems
the Japanese way. In Japan, they
like to play baseball the American
way.
import
export—
batting the syllables around
______________________________________
TANKA
Tanka:
a classic Japanese form of poetry,
up to 31 syllables,
haiku-like. offering a personal
response to the first lines,
often written as five lines.
here they come
before he can blow
the conch horn twice—
you’d think they want
his autograph, not fish
*
overtime—
early evening
and the workaholic bees
haven’t yet let up
on the Mexican love vine
*
sense of smell gone--
just tell we what perfume
you’re wearing
let the name alone
excite me
*
at the library
watching the old man
sleeping on a book
I try to keep
my eyes open
*
by your side
the dark’s never so dark
but we’re coming closer—
closer to what we don’t want
to come close to
*
cracked shell painted
with a Chinese dragon
a gift returned from
another man’s lover
I’m reminded of her breasts
*
she asks why
I’m speaking a foreign language
to the mirror—
I respond in English
We understand each other
*
in the cellar
a love letter ignored
thirty years ago—
the beginning
of a long story
*
reading the old love letter
again and again
word by word
deconstructing the sex
in the text
*
Mother’s last day
right after Mother’s Day
a Hallmark card cult
we never practiced...
can’t ever forget it now
*
trimming the last
of the survivors
the florist tells me
Holiday’s over
Name your price
*
Easter band--
drum and trumpet parade
in the pre-dawn dark,
every dog in town
resurrected
*
Caribbean bargain—
under an unclaimed
beach umbrella
two dollars worth
of free shade
*
hurricane warning
latitude 18 longitude 65--
the mosquito smack
in the middle
of my hand
*
two race horses
up to their necks
in the sunset sea
heading in and out
of the lightning track
*
heavy frost
the radio claims light casualties
green tomatoes still cling
to the blackened
backyard vines
*
what shakes the branches
shakes me
flash after flash
the roof peels off
no time for an epitaph
*
kicking over
the empty flowerpot
a huddle of crickets
doesn't know
which way to jump
*
then suddenly
you're seventy
and the handwriting
on the wall
isn't spelled right
*
making a path
she puts a stone here
he moves it there
the big stone
takes two
*
the distances between stars
will never give us away
even if we're together
for a lifetime
it's still a kiss in the dark
*
there are those who stand
perfectly still for hours
and those on roller skates
who can't stop moving
I take my place among the deranged
*
address yourself
to the wind, furin--
hit and run lovers
don't know much
about a permanent address
*
old couple
starting together
stopping together
no longer together
one keeps going
*
awake
with night lightning--
and my old wife
sleeping a sleep
so young
*
the unknown conch shell
and the conch shell
of the unknown—
their call goes out
above the surf
after Tagore
*
alive for no reason
moonlight through the window
birds calling
in the moonlight
alive for life’s sake
*
breeze on the small pond
pushing the blossoms
from shore to shore
if I lose your address
I lose my own
*
snow-on-the-mountain
blooming again--
the flowers
we talked about
before your death
for Milton, St. Thomas, VI
*
a monument to the death
of sugar and slavery...
how sweet it is
the Atlantic below
spitting salt
Bordeaux
Greathouse, St. Thomas VI
*
sailor, goodbye
sail on
faithless desires
uncertain loves
every shore is yours
*
where the guest entrance used to be
lizards come and go at will
among these ruins
I look for an echo
to find a voice
*
we lie together
looking up at the stars
the Pleides
and wake up side by side
you beside me, my body gone
*
your genitals leaped
like a frog into the dark
you waited years
and now you hear
the echo: POP!
*
strangers--
we freely share
the names of flowers
and go our separate ways
nameless
*
after midnight, fireflies
no longer seek each other—
I touch you in your sleep
after midnight by accident
on purpose
*
spectacular sunset
you call me
to one side of the house
I call you
to the other
*
cherry blossoms
at their peak
Saigyo
you can die
as you wished
*
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