searching

searching
the waves but finding
no answer
the sandpiper tracks
vanish without a trace

haibun

she envies her her boyfriend that never fools around and her cherry-
red convertible that never needs repairs and her outfits (complete with shoes and accessories) that can be had for less than ten dollars and the perpetually-shining plastic sun outside her practically-immaculate plastic house but most of all she envies her her god-damn nearly-perfect never-faltering ability-to-smile . . .

she says
“we can’t help who we love”
to no one
in particular
"all guys are assholes”

can you hear

all the colors

iN My DReamS

a November breeze

hurrying here, hurrying there

once again sleep alludes me

like an old don juan quixote

recognizing the pain

trying to decide

what manner of bird is this

first anniversary

another day

all the colors of spring