The downtown beggar
died last week; a reminder
to cherish mint leaves.
Regular waves in
successive spikes, a thin stream
ending at the drain.
Car horn from below,
“Shave and a haircut, six bits,”
staccato, then out.
Light at my old work
goes out, the very instant
my night bus rolls past.
3:05 pm,
crescent moon, halfway hidden,
scudding eastward clouds.
Spring blossoms fallen,
One lost DVD
stains all my gratitude
at the sun’s return.
“High above it all”
depends very much, of course,
upon your staircase.
I’ve never pondered
all those other mini-mart hands
depleting Pop-Tarts.
Waving flies aside
across Green Lake Way from Spud,
blighted wood bleachers.
Campus Parkway,
the grey crane casts no shadow
swinging, silent, south.
Heart-shaped slice of pear
After I finish
scribing him through my keyboard
the gas man plods on.
Sun in the right spot
to light up King Street Station
sloped roof, shiny green.
In the middle lane,
in the middle of the lane,
one lone prone ladder.
Blind man folds dried laundry
his long cane propped on a slant
against the doorway.
For a split second
I thought she was calling
to say she loves me.
Feeling Lester’s ghost
He throws a quarter
and a dime, into the sun
clutching chardonnay.
Rain drips down the ledge
my friend sleeps in the back room
two hours to sundown
Southbound SUVs
caught in mid-morning commute
are varispeed snails.
I could wager on
which stone a raindrop might strike
and lose yet again.
Late-night bus tunnel
forgotten, tomorrow
the blue of train 16
Four green lights hang back
Pen clenched in left hand,
bent over her sudoku…
our train cools down.
To grandmother and
grandfather, his tattoo, but
I don’t ask him why.
Two umbrellas hung
from the guard tower railing,
not needed today.
Balloon flowers,
available in two shades;
grade-school commuters.
Ducks greet the sunrise
I hear them but don’t see them
as they plan their day.
I put down my book
She rolls up her dress
blue flowers over boxers
near the Black Muslim.
At ninety-one, how
many other naps has she
taken in sunlight?
The floor, worn away
into grimacing profiles,
into continents.
The fly seeks the sun,
never getting through the screen
last week of July.
Her hair, purple waves
over a determined stare,
guitar on her back.
The terns flap southeast
Sweat collecting on
the heel of my right hand
dampens the denim
I remind myself
not to expect friendship
there, that’s better.
Bellevue bus banner
“8 restaurants to choose from”
the pigeon pecks crumbs
The Fourth of July
means nothing to me this year
but thick, rolling booms.
One table, one man
eating a bean from a plate
outside, history
The fire station flag
I can’t write haiku
about that fellow taking
the shutter cord for his toy.
I could write haiku
about the suspense thrumming
as I breathe deeply.
Right now I think
only of the two donuts
awaiting me, soon…
The nurse guides a man
on the phone; he’s gotten lost
and have not we all?
I had to hear them
squabbling over violence, to
appreciate peace.
One mustn’t assume
The ambulance man
he sees me, my northbound bus,
then runs to the west.
Gasoline can, spilled
then righted, five yards away
sunny-hot pavement.
Yes, Lloyd Building,
Yes, Int’nl Teriyaki,
Stay, feeble sunshine!
Five pigeons, rooftop
one does a dance while the rest
perch, vigilant.
Does anybody
think, of this old bench, and its
conversation husks?
“I can’t stand the rain”–
What is this concrete,
such gravel, steel, that rebar
against the dead stars?
Small plane overhead
and a worn van’s chittering
usher out the sun
Empty ice-cream pint
in this, I’ve cultivated
exactly one ant.
Atop dinosaurs
we prance; who can say what, shall
caper over us?
Just gone to purple
the upper sky through my blinds
pale blue over West.
I begin putting
i love books because every ending is tied up with a pretty bow
all loose ends addressed
instead of the empty half-ever-afters full of questions
sorrows
pain
confusion
left behind after you're screwed over
you don't have to wonder
you know
every time i caught up
you danced away with that smug little half-smirk-half-grin
because i did the same to you and
so many others
but it's not as funny as i used to think