paul m. haiku 1999

May 7, 2019 § Leave a comment


supper finished;

on the cutting board

grains of rice


spring moon

on the crosscut saw

one broken handle


gazing on

her sleeping back

sounds of rain


the church bell

ringing one o’clock

bowed kite string


forked lightning

out over the ocean

her warm fingers


hearing the house


the wet rock garden


no snow here-

only these letters

from the attic


pear slice falling

to the kitchen floor

pale moonlight


evening breeze;

a white moth floating

in the dishwater



san francisco 1999




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