My window ticks once
at a brushstroke from the rain
wind keepsakes the rest

But how many friends
can you have, if all you see
fills all that you know?

Banana milk, drunk
years ago, long-dead diner
returns to my tongue

The night crests morning
only my two stinky feet
keep me company

Teakettle whistles,
but it’s in another room
along with my mind

How proud of my words!
…still, the wall’s one missing brick
knows more than I do

I asked him if he’d
ever known someone famous…
still kicking myself

Evening, spongy heat
green and blue lights from that train
through the bamboo grove

“inconsequential”
won’t do for my epitaph
too much stonecutting

In my own heart true
I am a tiny poem
blown across the walk

Crow, so excited
to have found its lime-green fence–
plus a parking sign!

“Excuse me, please” she whines
tossing her perfectly good
pork chops in the trash

From the universe,
to the moon, shining its light
on one tongueless boot

A hand of butter
tossed in a pan, starts to melt
from thumb and knuckles

The old man’s hands
scarred, long ago
pour the afternoon tea

“Will work for $5
an hour, or, spare any change?”
The sign sits alone