after death
her absence fogs over
under words
a morepork
until it loses itself
calls its name
a cloud ascends
into infinity
footfall . . .
the dull thud
of waking
a spring rain
agitates the clarity
of its pooling
first light
the fall from it
all around
spring storm
my future slows down
for my shadow
theta waves
splash the plimsoll line
of my words
a haiku
without trying to be

sharpening an end to end all war

with the birds
the words to voice
such silence
sun shower
a rain drop turns
into wine
death bed vigil . . .
his mind fingers through
beads of sweat
mist . . .
from tree to tree
an afterthought
iambic throb —
the slow black trochee
of life-blood
scented night —
a moth enters the hush
between stars
midnight stroll
beyond the back-chatter
of the universe
the milky way
stretches out its wingspan
of indifference
inland sea . . .
the sound of a siren
turns my head
mid night
all the stars out there 
mid way from the past
under a cloud
a beekeeper checks
each peony
graveyard shift —
the past in spectres picking
through haibones
on reflection
moonset's paucity
of words

queueless the fine line here

second language
just one second after
a big bang
desert spring . . .
some words from my mouth
no man's land —
haiku mind-seeding
by moonlight
from the dark
from the space it leaves
a  tree begins
moonlit lake —
the doppler effect
of black swans
crescent moon
separating facts
from fiction
crescent moon
another thumbnail sketch
of sad stories
crescent moon
light crests over
a snail

a part across from a godwit’s carbon footprint