withered grass—
Feng Shui and aromatherapy
failed to work

yesterday's shirt
tumbling in the dryer
I hum a Bob Dylan song

Valentine's Day—
headless mannequins
in the maternity shop

in the dark earth
of my brother's grave:
my footprint

mountain peak—
losing her one step
into the cloud

lingering heat—
sucking the color out
of a popsicle

hot afternoon
mourning dove fans
one wing           the other

wishing I
were Georgia O'Keeffe
morning glory

late sunlight
his pictures on the wall
nine years after

year's end
the cabooseman's lantern
swings into the mist

window display
how tenderly she handles
the male mannequins

over the crest
the wet road snakes
sky-blue

wedged tight
to the city skyline
city cemetery

new shoes
in every puddle
unbroken blue sky

one by one...
   apples
      letting go

new snow:
even the meaning
of our words is muffled

patience—
the turtle waits
for its shadow

eclipse
of the hunter's moon
something moves through underbrush

following it
all the way to town
this deepening rainbow

gibbous moon---
only half-sure
of your apology

deep winter
a hooded figure squeezes in
the greenhouse door

airport queue
a security guard
separates our family

fresh flowers
on the Garden State Parkway
restroom counter

through the autumn mist
the steeple
of an abandoned church

cicada
its empty shell
touching it, I shiver

reading Chrysanthemum Love
I start from
the back of the book