A Rose

It didn't last long.
First the leaves yellow and fold
like pages of a book
 caught in a rainstorm.
Then the petals age,
lose their perfect texture
and look more like skin,
familiar with the hard work
of being mortal. They resemble
a map folded so many times
the creases are part of the landscape.
But the red stays red
except for a touch of black
at the edges. That's it.
I threw it out
and washed the glass it was in.
Memory and memory's accomplice
where perfection is a photograph
remembered, but misplaced.

M

The only light still lit
in the motel sign across the street.
A long path with many turns,
the gypsy said — or someone
pretending to be a gypsy —
15 years ago. An old Italian woman
said: you will meet a beautiful woman
with a scar on her cheek.
Yes. Go on. She will take
something valuable from you.
Nothing unusual
there. Except the beautiful part.
Her initials are M...
Yes? I can say no more.
The reading is over. And with that
she closed the metal door
covering her storefront.
Is that all I get?
One initial and a scar?
In the street I can hear people
laughing as they head
from the beach to their hotels.
Did I mention that it was a beach town
and the son of the "gypsy"
owned the pizza store
next door? I can't remember
their name. It began with...

Story

Bird. Nest. Tree.
Cloud. Rock. Rain.
Cloud. No rock. More rain.
Bird. Bird. Nest.
Window. Curtain. Shadow.
Window. Curtain. No shadow.
Night. No bird. No tree.
No tree. No bird. No night.
Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.
Sleep. Sleep. Alarm.
Eye. Curtain Coffee.
Tree. Nest. Bird.

O

The snake has swallowed its tail.
The discussion of what to do next
drags on into the night. Several options,
that were available before,
are no longer on the table.
In fact, the table itself
is no longer an option. We crouch
in the shadows trying
not to be noticed by the guards.
Reports come in that the army
is on our side, but
there is no way to verify the claim.
Injuries mount. The darkness grows
more permanent with each
passing minute. Even sleep
it seems has been taken away from us.
Until someone nudges you
and tells you to roll over,
you're snoring too loud
and the snake has disappeared.

Variations on 100 poems (#50)

For you, I gave up
childish things and the child
in me wants to grow old
with you.

Variations on 10 poems (#49)

Guards tend the fires
at the imperial gate all night:
my love for you.

Variations on 100 poems (#48)

The waves shatter into a thousand pieces
when they hit the rocks by the shore.
I am a thousand pieces
of a man, thinking about
what I could have been.

Variations on 100 poems (#47)

When I was lonely
the trees and leaves
hid my mountain home.
But now it is fall
my solitude is deeper
because every passerby
is a friend not coming to visit.

Variations on 100 poems (#46)

Like sailing across Osaka bay
in the dark, rudder gone —
who knows where love will lead us?

Variations on 100 poems (#45)

No one knows the words
I would say  to describe losing you. 
They are mute. They could fit
between the pages of a book.
They are so small
they make no noise
even when I am yelling.