Everything is new:
my mother’s crude husband,
this small Alaska town,
my unknown
fifth grade classmates—
including Larry Sefrovitch
who wants to fight.
A crowd circles us on the playground
as we flail fists.
Only after a teacher
separates us
do I cry.
I can’t stop.
Seward, Alaska, 1952
(No. 62 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)
Thousands of snow geese
shade early morning moon
under a cold sky.
Frozen levee grasses
soak my city shoes.
Overhead, a bare branch—
I glance up,
gaze into great horned
owl eyes.
Eventually,
we blink.
Port Susan Bay, Mouth of the Stillaguamish
(No. 39 in a series of responses to Han-shan’s Songs of Cold Mountain)
A drip collects
in a plastic tub
placed on a shelf
in my bathroom.
Its source is not rain,
but cold condensation.
I need to fix it.
This wears on me.
To be honest,
containers collect water
in many rooms of my house.
Although it requires
energy to empty them,
many of the leaks
may never be repaired.
(No. 101 in a series of replies to Han-shan’s Songs of [...]
When I was seven
my father offered his secretary
a ride home.
On the way, he pulled
to the side of a country road,
slumped over the steering wheel, died
of a cerebral hemorrhage.
That night my mother tells me
he is gone forever.
I numb, suspend
in dry shock.
-Remember everything he taught you.
-He taught me exactly how to dry
between my legs after a bath.
I’ll [...]
My young self drives an old Volvo
up Fourth Avenue for the first time,
just below Yesler overpass
near where I work.
He has left his Colorado home forever,
bound for graduate school in Seattle.
I will hail him as I often do,
reach for words
of confidence
and fathering he has long
missed.
But not today.
Fuck it.
I am old and lonely.
This time, it is he [...]
Awake from a dream
of failure as a college professor,
I get up to pee.
Settling back into bed warmth,
I find that in my absence
demons slipped in, and they mean
business. Tonight, they employ mind
swirlers and leg tremors,
leaving brain and guts wrenched.
What’ll I do what’ll I do?
Work, relationship, future–all shit.
With effort, I herd them
from mind to belly. [...]
Learn tai-chi.
Go on a one-year birding trip.
My friend Tatsuda told me
I should make a list
of fifty things I want to do.
She mentioned this because we’re
getting older, and, besides,
she has a friend with prostate cancer.
He’s an engineer who only
came up with twelve items.
Build a Habitat house; visit France.
Practice yoga; learn a language.
At first I was reluctant.
Too [...]
Dr. Huang is a cheery fellow,
and today we talk politics
as he zaps my meridians
with #.005 surgical steel.
“Politics is like a toilet,” he notes,
“smelly, but we need it.”
“Like making sausage,” I offer,
“you don’t want to see
what goes into it.”
Dr. Huang continues,
telling me how
blood sausage is made.
He swirls my energy a last time,
turns off the light, and
I [...]
