I’M GIVING UP ON FLOWERS

I’m giving up on flowers

to cultivate weeds;

when the

weeds

begin

to flower,

I will cultivate

stones with all my

ingenuity of minimal

effort and total

concentration,

and love.

When the stones are finished

I will build a house in the rural

Pennsylvania of my imagination,

and plant some pretty

flowers

in the yard.

WHEN SHE OPENED THE DOOR

When she opened the door

her cat Laverne

was there

with

an expression

of urgent ambivalence

on her calico

face.

Before putting down her heavy

backpack she picked

up Laverne

and kissed

her

forehead.

This seemed to decide

the matter for

the cat

who

wriggled

to be free

from regard, in order

to stalk twilight.

HONORABLY MIFFED

Honorably miffed

at the way things aren’t going,

the maple leaf sighs

 

as it lies all green

on a moon of sidewalk. Why

did I have to leave? it thinks.

DEATH IS MY LAST HOPE

Death is my last hope,

my only consolation

in the longest night

 

of my sleeplessness:

Lullaby whose words are strange,

nearer than my pretty sighs.