poetry

one petalfrom the princess treeclings to the windshield—I drive awaylooking in the mirror un pétalede l’arbre impérials’accroche au pare-briseje démarreen regardant dans le rétroviseur published in 25 Canadian Tanka Poets in French and English : Atlas Poetica, May, 2010. French translation by Mike M

The haiku and micropoetry journal I edit, tinywords, got 875 submissions in the course of 2 weeks for our upcoming summer issue. Since I expect I’ll be able to publish about 50 or 60 poems in this issue, that means the acceptance rate is going to be significantly less than 10%. It also means I […]

I’m amazed and honored to see a poem I wrote included in this collection of Canadian tanka. There is even a translation into French (not by me) — a first for me. one petal from the princess tree clings to the windshield— I drive away looking in the mirror un pétale de l’arbre impérial s’accroche […]

From my own experience, and the experience of friends who had spent months to years to a lifetime devoted to little magazines and small presses, I knew in my bones that tinywords had become overwhelming. This stuff eats you alive. But I also knew, it’s damn hard to let go once you made your mark. […

after the last train a man works the floor polisher alone almost snow calculus — the slow accumulationof almost nothing turning the corner into the sudden warmth of sunlight in a light raina woman pushes a shopping cart, singing “Wish You Were Here” new glasses: all of my mistakes now painfully clea

clearing sky– cherry petals lying blown upon the asphalt– what have you taught us except to fall, and fall, and fall? published in American Tanka #16

One thing follows another,as sure as teeth meshwith teeth, the pinion turns the gear,the axle drives the wheel and the worldtumbles forward on its pivot:Some things are reversible,allowing for the unavoidable backlash,a little play, a wiggle in the works,a slap in the gears, the jerk of each caras t

The rosin dust on the violinist’soldest violin is white,like the chalk beneath the wordswhere children learn to writethe equations that will definethe arcs and angles of their work.Rosin is the trace of a hundredthousand notes, silent, no sparkremaining but the sense that allhas come to rest: the sc

Calder sculpture; a single brown leaf tumbling from the sky published in The Heron’s Nest VIII.2, June 2006 This is my first published haiku outside of tinywords.