Rain Came In

Rain came and sat next to me today on the train.

She was still dressed in her winter duds,
a heavy brown coat and woolen boots,
but I knew it was her before I saw her.

She had dripped off of a broken seven track,
slipped underground and decided to take the e train.

I could smell her.

The cool, brisk, natural, moist, fresh
heavy, heady, scent of earthy spring's rebirth followed her,
enfolded her,
as she folded her hands in her lap and hid in her seat.

I inhaled.

She refused to make eye contact.

1208 months and 9 days old

My father is born in 1944,
and grandpa has lived 407 months,
and 10 days
When dad is 806 months
and 1 day…

I am born in 1980,
and grandpa has lived 844 months
and 5 days
When I am 395 months
and 6 days…


My son is born in 2010,
and grandpa is 1095 months
and 10 days
When Caleb is 14 months
and 1 day…

Japan in the Times

I look, but I cannot look, because I cannot see, because I cannot deal,

I cannot take--
The New York Times is too graphic, too blatant.

I see, but I cannot see death of that magnitude, devastation, destruction,

bodies…
and so I pretend-even to myself; my sheltered,

(naïve,) self,
that the people, (who two days ago were—breathing--moving-- living;)

are today,

(as they are being pulled from the rubble to find only darkness;)

in fact sleeping,

(by choice,) not destroyed--dead--unmoving--nonliving--desiccating

bodies--corpses,

among devastating--debilitating--chaos.
-- my mind hides and weeps as helpless as a child --

Rain

Rain is flighting
dip dropping, slightly
lightly hugging close the sky
letting go to touch the earth
sliding, between feet
playing on the street and
overhead—everywhere.

Apricots

You are
in the kitchen
halving apricots,
pulling them apart
into two pieces
along the seam
with both thumbs.

Eating them,
one half of
one half
at a time.

Saturdays

After they have fallen off of trees

leaves--

twisting,

born individually

writhing with new life,

walk barefoot, moving swift with the wind

to the ground.

She moved within her life

sweeping along, touching many.

Her color dusting the ground rubbing the feet of all that follow

She saw us

moving barefoot, swiftly with the wind

twisting

each of us moving closer to the ground

she painted us with her color.

We follow her with painted feet.

The Non Haiku

1.

I have fallen love,
for your whimsical spirit
and your happy touch.

2.

Would that I could run
free, open into your arms
I would feel sunrise

3.

In your arms I fall—
A stranger in paradise,
I’m lost there and left.

4.

I wish to see you,
tensed, hovering above me,

radiating bliss.

5.

You are beautiful,
Rain dropping into your mouth,
and over your tongue.

6.

The rain falls lightly
Caressing my lovers back
As he caresses

7.

Cover your mouth with
me, open, desirous,
longing for your taste.

8.

He said I was his
and finally freed my heart
from his luring grip

9.

Will this end badly,
Your sun setting on my heart,
tears blinding my eyes?

10.

After summer they,
undulating in the wind,
must fall to grow new.

Joy Drop

Joy
Drop

Even if…
I never see you,
or touch you again,
I will remember ever
You, my ethereal love
who caressed my heart,
and caused me joy
unbounded.

To and Fro

You are moving
toward me
and from me
at the same time,
billowing in the wind
a flying feather in the breeze,
floating on denser air
as a cloud
rolling across the sky,
airborne
naturally moving
as the spring’s breeze
carryies the dandelion’s seed
away from my lips
and into my hair
at the same time.

Is it?

Falling in love
is not
loving
is not
being in love
is not
being loved
is not
making love
is not
love

Quietess

Pieces of hair
fall onto paper
and form squiggles
snakes, S’s, and curls
slithering smoke, rising above the line of a city
from a puffing
cigar in the skyline.

Drab Purples

There are
the metal wound strings
crossing the wood
that used to be living
housing squirrels
or perhaps the wood
lived without squirrels
but not without leaves
falling
dropping
every autumn
after rains come
before the snow
autumn
when we died
when leaves die
and snow shows itself for the first time
like that first time
when I showed you
with eyes newly opened
like babies’ eyes
a new world
or did you show me
a world
not so black and white
full of tones of gray
and cherry
or was it rose
shielding all wrong
from me
I couldn’t see you then
as you are
living
as the wood was living
used to live
with leaves
hanging
not falling
as snow from the sky

Those of yours

Iridescent aperture of
the warmest of petrified amber
illustrious essence of
yellow-brown painted, inside with
gold flecks of leaves- green, originally, reflecting
hinting unknowns
the uncold stone unhidden
illustrious, open
doubled-
Those beauteous twins
staring.