Tonight
I am worn out
with wishing on winter stars
just as cold and faraway as
you are.

* * *

Your love
wraps around me,
soft, solid, and silent--
one more seashell where I can't hear
the sea.

ending
I follow my own footsteps
through the empty field

you think with feeling
and not with reason
foolish heart
if you were a man
I would leave you

* * *

piensas con sentimientos
y no con razón
corazón sencillo
si fueras un hombre
me alejaría de ti

I have been selected as one of the six contributors to DailyHaiku's cycle 7, Spring/Summer 2009.

the smell of rain
in these old notebooks
thinking again
how poorly I am suited
to myself

lightning
the blue afterimage
of your white hands

naked earth
the trust you had
you betrayed

too many clouds
for birdsong
how strange
your smile is all it takes
to make me sing

I don't feel
guilty, she says--
winces at the thunder

peeling open
the flower petals

hide-and-seek
the children unearth
old bones

the stepping stones
underwater

drowned moon
the taste of his
apology

pressing leaves between
swollen fingers

the empty space
in father's gloves
autumn ends

my heart so full
it hurts

after you
dry blood
at the corner of my mouth

cool rain
kissing the drops from you cheek

salt taste
on this slow breeze
the smell of clams

over the horizon
desert flowers

the moon opens
a lotus blossom
summer stillness

ripples
in the puddle of oil

the tiny pebbles
in my sandal straps
heat wave

black water
in the granite quarry

spotted
the wings of the ladybird
on the tulip petal

the drop of dew
on my fingertip

spinning the globe
he asks me
what I want

the world
as it was yesterday

budding rose
the smell
of tomorrow's rain

capless
the waves far from shore

she borrows
my scarf
new coolness

a red thread
behind the sled runners

an old dress
on a new date--
new novel, too

coral bracelet
beneath his kiss

farewell roses
the color of blood
slow wind

pushing the gas
you behind me

leaving...
the autumn moon
behind a cloud

sunlight
in a pile of leaves

evening
he leans on his rake
a little harder

knuckle marks
in the bread dough

he brings me cookies
in an old tin
sudden shower

he hold her umbrella
at her funeral

white lily
my friend shows us
baby pictures

uprooted daffodils
her guilty smile

my hands
rough on the piano keys--
still, this restlessness