blue plums
over-ripe and tasting
of dusk—
we never discussed
organ donation
the empty husk
of a milkweed pod—
how I wish
you’d never asked
how much I love you
day moon
above the strangler figs
for a moment
the fullness
of your arms
offerings
of incense and sake
in the temple
these polished floorboards
reflect my lack of faith
Slow Growing Ivy and Casting Shadows are out of print. Below is a sample of individual tanka found within these collections and published in other journals.
beneath skies
overripe with stars
how I envy
every astronaut
and astronomer
a blank space
where the donor’s signature
is meant to be—
all the ways you felt
you had nothing to give
migrating geese
slip-stitch the autumn sky—
sometimes
only nature can mend
what’s frayed within me
the shape and feel
of a sun-ripened pear
was it simply
in small moments like this
Ruben found his muse?
until your ECG
I never questioned your heart
a murmuration
of migrating swallows
darkens the sky
my father
pauses on the outskirts
of memory—
no roadmap ever folds
the same way twice
almost scandalous
how you warmed almond oil
in your cupped palm—
from finger to skin
this whispered code
yard sale
and dad’s old fly rod
gone forever
this tag & release
of childhood memories
sudden crack
as a bunya pine cone
splits open—
no way to prepare
for that kind of news