for a moment of joy or moments no one pays for, i give myself a ‘jornal’. this makes me rich. try it.

the wind

but the wind will come again…

…on altar walls blood-stained by stigmata on finger bones sticking out of grains on the wet scent of rosemary in an old man’s hand on palm fronds skinned for brooms

..on the sea scooped in a wife’s prayer seeking for a mask in blue whales supplications of dying roots the earth represses night eyes uncoiling vines on children’s cheeks

…in your hands a crosshatch of spider web sagged from the sun’s weight unrelenting darkness left for the lightning

on cracked cages 

winded tongues 


the other bunny, January 28, 2019


March 4, 2021 Posted by | Uncategorized | , | Leave a comment

the way the wind



the way cherry blossoms

let the wind shred petals

… a moment as valued as a shooting star, from which I took my jornal writing this haiku last night

March 30, 2010 Posted by | haiku, poetry | , | Leave a comment