Poem Category: Miscellaneous

While I passed their rooms
the school of Geisha
serving perfect teas.

Alone
as she likes it
bed and her romance novel.

Little reaching fingers
the bread’s butter-side up
so close on the floor.

Solitary
grey moths circling
the wet streetlights.

Streetlights
still wind ruffled
the quick red fox.

Black pond
a frog leaps into
the litter of stars (Basho’).

alone with rain
waving down the platform
to the train

farmhouse
a meteor passing
leaves its light

saxophones
beneath my cat nap
dad’s low vinyl jazz

resisted…
reading a pen-pal
at the letter box