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his rough hands
against the dull blade
the glint of sunset
how much time do I waste
on this fleeting verse
**xanga 7/122/2004; Shiki 6/13/1997
mustard seed
between her breasts
dangling ... dangling
wondering what she said
when I wasn't listening
**Brussels Sprout, May 1994
old catcher's mitt
brushing first snow away
to find home plate
between obscure baselines
winning the game again **Shiki, 6/3/1997; Brussels Sprout, May
1994
her ashes
into the river
as she wished
on the park bench at dusk
learning to feed pigeons
**Tanka Light, Sep 1998
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