red light tanka

The following poems appeared in the journal red lights.


the moon

is barely

a sliver

and you’ve

unpinned your hair



late night

he slurs his goodnight

but the ice

in his glass

cracks crisply



unseen now

for half a century

the wallpaper


the wallpaper



family feud . . .

the way richard dawson

kissed all those women

when my father was away

on his long, distant trips



i speak to you

for the first time

in years

your dates

cut into stone



no moon

perhaps the things

you meant to say

one day

the clouds will form



a long commute

you were gone in the morning

but home at night . . .

it rose and fell,

your love, like tides




a mother’s voice

announces dinner . . .

the dust aches

unable to answer



the sudden scent

of popcorn and elephant

and what i could not conjure then—

oh, to have made love

to the tattooed lady




a boy leans over

a riverbank

with a foot raised

over the world



aa meeting

the faint scent

of club soda

my father’s kiss




like Monet

i would do it all

over again

with a few slight changes

in color and tone