bottle rocket haiku

The following poems appeared in the journal bottle rockets.


orange on gold

the sun sets

on the sheriff’s star



i believe i’ll float awhile

before i settle . . . dust




the terrible weight

of even the lightest leaf



for a moment

i thought he wrote haiku—

my father’s address book



up and up away from the child’s hand     memory



a breeze passes . . .

the last light of day

lets you go



searching for matches as he speaks

twelve days sober



watermelon seeds

the shape of mother’s tears

THAT picnic


new winter coat

the meaning of life

in button holes



his name . . . not on the wall

a suicide after the war



bombed berlin

the chalk messages of people

searching for people




we give the puppy

its name



lunch break on a slow day

the dogcatcher licks his fingers



spring rain

an hour passes

with nowhere to go



they split apart–

delicate things,

atoms & parents




an education

on the edge of town




i wonder what the absent boys

are doing



those early dates

when we kissed goodnight

until morning