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Child’s butterfly kite
streams in the air below a vulture. A dust devil lasts just long enough to be seen- I’m 50 years old Published in Masticadores USA, March 2026.
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 My first full-length collection (100 poems) available from Kelsay Books and Amazon!
Fog on the beach,
people appear, disappear… childhood summers. Published in the O2 Haiku Magazine, February 28, 2026.  Published by Masticadores USA, January 23, 2026.
the unexpected sun lubricates
the solidified landscape, accompanied by dripping, dripping. A green brush exhales two sudden surges of whiteness: one of the Ten Thousand Forms. Last chance to be more. The first column merges with the second, heaping into itself like faint dough. A few gusts of chilled wind scatter the flecks of mating energy. They rally, weakened, growing few, tracking the sun’s gift along the wooden walkway, forming squabbling groups, pairs, all hoping in that frenzied fly way that no bird sees them. How envious I am of their New Year’s Eve, of them living poetry rather than writing it. Published in Feed the Holy & Masticadores USA on December 31st, 225. Raven-Vulture-Poet
Raven sees me, intimidates me with magic wings that begins as vulture on the branch, as big as the hunger for bones, bald red head turned to me, winks and breaks into the air, blading the sky back to raven. How like being a poet going from one thing to another, from the spirit to the sink, the prayer to the power company bill, that moment of inspiration to the words sneering on the page, wings, hunger and a cage. Your Own Tools Practicing mindful patience an hour for my overdue appointment, the waiting-room flooded with frustration. My reward: the trembling young woman who ducked out at the busiest time to buy hair clippers a customer broke. “No, Quality Clips doesn’t provide our tools of the trade, only combs. Pay day coming soon.” She talks in snips of braided hairs, her pierced septum, her baby hands, baby fingers, doing Alice in Wonderland in Grade 8. The teacher made all the costumes herself. Thinks that ‘Friday’ is a cute name. Nothing Jabberwocky about it. Took high school Chinese twice, Chinese food every morning, how to hold chopsticks, what to love in an ancient culture. She enjoys history my stories from the classroom, talking about Rome. She’ll go one day. Her father and uncle are Italian. She doesn’t understand a word. But she wants and she deserves to not wait so long. Published in December 2025 in the Oregon English Journal, Vol.XLVII, No.2 Standing in Safeway, staring
at grapes, a man approaches. I heard him talk to his sons with a soft, operatic Spanish. Inspired by our indecision he teaches us about the fruit which ones are sweet and soft, the ones that crunch - his son’s favorites. He is from Chile, works in agriculture - grapes, green and red. Those ones. Recommends with a smile. Later we eat grapes and thank life for the small, sweet gifts. Published in November 2025 in Masticadores USA. Not visiting often, Mum
tells me to stay where I am. Let her make a fuss, my wife whispers. Let her show her love. Little acts of servitude: bringing me tea, and biscuits, cooking dinner, tidying up and turning down all offers of help, all her life. That July night, another gesture: playing scrabble together. We don’t spell out the painful words: health worries, aging, Dad’s forgetfulness, my grief for a son never born. But we play and laugh and for one night we can spell mother and son love. Published in Main Street Rag, Vol.30, #4 Fall 2025  Buy your copy at the link below. $10 for the print edition, $.3.50 for a digital download.
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