Watershed
I’d dare to whisper, “Angel, I love you”
if I was sure my words would flow directly to your heart
from this high point where lovers often part
Making my mark
The field hides tracks of interweaving lives
a fox cub’s inexperienced pounce, a deer tiptoeing past at dawn
– but I carve patterns on a cultured lawn
Incomplete
I’d like to explain my love as well as I can
though blossoms take time to open their heart to the sun
and the life of this poem is over before it’s begun
Saturday night
It’s beer and wine and bouncers at the doors
and boys from out of town with decibels on shrieking wheels
and skirts bum short and hopes as high as heels
Last right
My birth was clearly not my personal choice
but since I’m here you’ll not dispute my body’s basic right
to choose the time to snuff my final light
Blessings
God was cold in outer space and came
to warm her hands beside a gently warming flame
– blessed are the CO2 makers
Note: tonku = 3 lines of 5-7-5 feet, as opposed to the haiku’s 5-7-5 syllables.
