mollusk

on the beach near the mouth  of water all of my fears have dissolved like sand 

lonely  clocking ticking in front room  i ignore  my sister´s stare when i arrive alone

invisible smile behind my closed mouth ´guilty of thirty-four counts´ purchasing  all black curtains for  a very cold house 

 shaking family tree: what will fall out will fall out  differences between monman and gason in hard times  *mother in Kouri-Vini **son in Kouri-Vini angling for that job—nothing he says is genuine  black draught for bowels...freed to think freely. better.  since ive become cynical everything takes on a dismal look on break stretching the body: another storm sweeps through senryu poets: ordinary folks writing about ordinary lives  courtyard sunspill—honored to be a senryu poet  honoring incarcerated Japanese senryu poets: bright jonquils  life's varieties give birth to senryu poets—dandelion seed rain enjoying a few figs work gives me hives hives hives resuming our affair—his scent quite memorable through weeds crossing to another side unfamiliar to me studying gallstones: sun shining aslant on my indecision  sometimes mourning aging process: venetian blinds slightly bent this neighborhood changing: gentrification quite insidious  memories like frozen peas—multitasking isnt effecti

 second  cup of coffee quite strong— another workshift spent  without electricity  . down  the street  abandoned buildings though  aged and sagging have a charm all their own . beyond a rotting wooden fence an old man skin dark as aged leather  rolling up a cigarette . thought the morning's 2nd cup of coffee tasted bitter, nothing could erase the sweetness of this memory. he and i, meeting after all these yrs; in the darkness of a hotel... kneeling  before his tipsy form... lust has never been as thick and flaming as  last night when smelling him  . how cute these summer kumquats arranged on the shelf... i remember when monman would  take us shopping for shoes . reading  published senryu... clang of the courtyard gate someone  heading somewhere  i wish i could go   

wilted pansies: lighting new candle on ancestor's altar cool afternoon maybe there's hope yet... warmed coffee hopscotchin' with boredom  piles of books cluttered thoughts and feelings rain on corrugated roofs haven't read fairytales in a while  marlene, marlene, marlene...swan foldin' in on itself through a haze of caffeine puppy avoids me 

 after the rain coolness: dressing for work 

wearing a hat with faux flowers  in it... youth must be a thing of the mind  . another  work shift... another brush with  other humans  hum of  an aged car

rhododendron afternoon— our American Government... it all  falls  down 

at the base of all reasoning... what does it mean to be 'happy'  orange blur of a monarch butterfly . after work meeting him  for a movie... to myself wondering: 'do people still go to movie theaters' . soaring temperatures after the rain i've learned how  to move around the broken  parts of myself  . stacks of binders and books on various subjects— i suppose coffee-scent is a welcome thing  . feeling compelled to say  'fuck you'  to anybody today— lonely leaf in a puddle  weirdly beautiful  .

old woman sweepin' porch unhappiness has weight  fragrant orange rinds my life amounts to spilled milk   rodeo days: scent of turkey-on-a-stick reading scripture—humanity's plight not that hard to see love me love me love me...on the breeze oil spill 

 'Post-Covid'—what an apocalyptic phrase...

fragrant griddle cakes  "lets talk about 'us'" 

whipped cream  is self-abandonment  a thing

 love me love me love me...on the breeze oil spill 

urinary tract infection: infections want to exist too

 english language senryu: tying honeysuckle in knots

introversion: wanting the rainpour wanting the loneliness pink highlighter: my stomach begs to differ  cholic baby...my glee not having any children  "To Sir with Love..." human body is a marvel  base of stomach outbreak of sun after stormpour everyone against me—my body despises me as well  after rainpour: sound of lawnmowers and...and...

near window...with flaming sword keeping the world out 

champagne brunch --- queer man dressed in jade as free as i want 

champagne brunch --- queer man dressed in jade discussing what?

senryu debates: simply writing them down smiling to self 

cup of mint tea... pausing before i face  other humans 

putting on  your silken dayrobe papaya scent 

ocean coldness... beyond horizon  that lovely man 

your idea of romantic things... algebra symbols 

your idea of romantic happenings... algebraic symbols 

near the balustrade his ankle monitor  left on table 

kingdom of  Liliʻuokalani stolen by us * Liliʻuokalani the Queen Regeant and last monarch of the Kingdom of Hawaii

home´s resting heat... awake all night and still  hating Summer 

Christmas tree lights  dead---burning magnolia scented candles 

dye-pack in stolen money... having to confront my  passionless life 

unflushed toilet room temperature drink left on the table . beyond morning  through parted blinds seeing  woman´s expression  . nostalgia --- unsure who the woman is in the photo  . the rise and fall  of a political house  --- nothing makes sense . bending willows ... income tax finally  hits my account  . Pearl Harbor Day --- Black and Brown bodies pass  back and forth today . eucalyptus... our argument the door  to Gehenna . Valley of Hinnom ... vacation spot of every  politician 

tonight  standing outside  my body like one big  open pore absorbing balmy darkness and the smell of rain 

remembering  that for a long while  i knew nothing of  a father's presence  or angry words... folding paper flowers 

even after the rape things  were made to be normal, the family still trimmed trees with brittle laughter  composed as part of a sequence in 2018 in "Bright Stars" 

what he chooses  to write in tanka i spill in these sedoka  sometimes lean and  sometimes full-bodied 

my ol'man got'a baritone voice too... we laugh  in bed at night at the way he checked his mama's homophobia over dinner 

death is normalized... another cop-related  Black death and  everyday folk look on   then continue what they were doing

horny  horny  horny... what other ways  are there to say  i crave skin'timacy 

tonight's skyline  stained with the lingering  of a setting sun in the south  the depressed gray of  an unreleased rainpour

forty two years old  and opting to  not wear my glasses just to cling to youthfulness... 'Vanity,  who art silly and tiresome' 

Dallas highways   under a depressed sky  unsure of what mindstate my sister is in... all of us secluded  doing our own things 

that man  with chocolate copper skin  writing poems  to no one in particular  i wonder what is that  sadness behind his words

untying the sash the hush  of a rainy evening  thinking if i should  start a fire  of leave things as they are

a small black boy  queer and creative playing  'House'  in the backyard unaware of viciousness of this thing called 'Life' 

with  the passing years the taste of hope has soured  into something  unrecognizable 

shattered glass  and even more  shattered confidences the unhinged  marched on the Capital  surely a dystopian day 

'no unity with sedition...'  in this climate  anything and everything goes... Hell is empty  as most of the demons  are public officials 

no Hindu goddess  in my timeline  only the stain  of political negligence  and the proof  that humans are a mess

lately  all these memories of living on Willow Street  the house hidden  by twin Pine trees mémé's fig tree in the back

now  in the bosom  of a sultry Summer  in my work uniform  trudging nonchalantly  burning up my life-force 

often  this other 'me'  stares at me  and wonders what kind  of bird or winged animal  id like to become  

all this movement  in the world of humans  old world sparrows  congregate  an old friend and i  enjoy a few Bud Lights

another Wednesday of wild pheasants... families out and about the smell of frying fish  in this village scene 

 dream of carousels where is this country spinning too

in the skin  of minimalist sedoka  every shade  of emotion or  fleeting thought

indulging in  many back-office  chocolates... a storm on its way i run out of words and poems 

 fields of wheat no moonlight needed to light up darkness by themselves they have this golden glow Redondo Bleach  where Mexican's live ugly oil wells  but on washdays flaming reds flutter in the breeze adolescent  enjoying McDonald's  at the kitchen table i enjoy   a Bud Light  this is the season of apricot buds swelling into bloom wearily  i date another man in this  quiet hotel  making tanka  the strong taste of a screwdrivier comforting he's thick  and big  just like i like  my lovers— spring darkness  something  about those earrings  aquamarine  belonging to granmémé... only treasure i own  drinking  with hotel guests... everything  now silent and still  my body aches slightly  slightly tipsy  waiting for the time  this shift ends  under a warm moonshine  homeless man walking  eyes heavy  from cheap screwdriver time approaching  5am in the morning  all i want is my bed quiet lobby— sound of my pen across  pure white paper  speaking in whispers about town-wise gossip  l

because of bad decision making  very sleepy... fatigue's weight mocks me  after falling heavily  on both of my eyelids  - someone's laughter  in the darkness... only 9:17 pm  in this back office  wondering about many things and nothing at all  - fighting back yawns having checked two folks in  silently cursing clock wanting this shift to end wanting home and bed  - and what of these  free form sedoka  what could i spill  into this rush of six lines down  quickly  -

thinking  of Sandy Goldstein... in a rush  of five lines down  i spill whatever comes 

getting off  a few tanka in  whatever lineation  appeals to me... fruit rollups are delicious - a string of words  left on the fireplace mantle  misanthropy  holds me in a chokehold tonight  - ripened bananas  re-arranging a smudge  on my finger... in and out  of newborn darkness - customer service industry  has lost its allure... night heaves its tired self on this city - not that clever at all  not that artistic  just spilling  my feelings and impulses  five lines down  - pigeons  gather then leave in quiet park sitting for a while  then walking aimlessly - blooming moon  tonight im swollen  with fatigue  i have no goodwill nor  patience for anyone  - for just a moment  putting my head down  the clock  turning  9pm  - May balminess... tired of all  these people  with needs  always asking asking 

these redundant  dour moods wondering if i  actually need medicinal assistance  - vitamin D pills... perhaps that's what im missing— i want this workshift  to quickly end  - loverless evening— tonight settling back to read Ghazals by Ghalib well beyond midnight

some man by the 3rd floor ice machine  thinking of Murasaki  and Izumi Shikibu too  *Lady Murasaki Shikibu, author of "Tale of Genji" **Lady Izumi Shikibu, amazing waka poet

it seems all i do is  complain  about everything  - unhappy these days... i feel the weight of Summer's  coming  - jotting down  feelings and thoughts  into  minimalist tanka  five lines down -

 playing 'freeze tag' with a kitten nondescript days 

 senryu summer my disposition's increasingly sour'd

to juxtaposition or not balmy evening wrinkled newspaper—laundry and a dusty broom home from the chaos that smiles    having a beer stifling pre-summer     everything irritated and on edge melon's coolness ' may i be frank with you'  partially nude what is this concept of 'ma'  idling truck outside inside danger's all the same 

wild pheasants  in the shadow  of your body

those  hanging persimmons  too red for my taste,,, a long wail from a passing train 

cloud-shadows... enjoying  every taste of the cheapest of gin 

with the start of this summer season  untouched or touched i will burn red in a strong wind

a grave statue with chipped face and missing eyes tonight i wonder about  the god of hell

blooming daphne watching  black fingers fluidly move across the acoustic guitar

this month of May  on the wind  smelling the scent of money coming... at least i hope

leaving work feeling as though  the grass  is inhaling/exhaling— yes im just tired

in the chair of a makeup artist face lightly brushed  with base... ' way to go Orrin' 

no wind  but some swaying branches a tired me  making my way home to my cramped flat 

oh this month of May smell of fresh cut grass i take Advil  for a small  headache 

home from work... kicking off these shoes  i find 'pedantic' to be an interesting word

asking no questions: irises remain yellow and i unsure - choosing my greatgrandfather's name: the milk has spoiled - dandelion rain missing the bus to downtown where's Lady Chatterley - aimlessly walking these days interest is a loaded term 

 memories quite fuzzy these days the boredom increases 

life has become strenuous... he doesn't mind telling me about his fears sotto voce 

remembering the redness of spider-lilies how often do i tell myself 'im a confident man'

 quite weary still the atrocities in Gaza continues 

a cascade of emotion... writing the name of my ancestor  in calligraphy—random things i do  - purchasing ice cream for $3.45 a sudden thought about  'shillings' and 'halfpences'' on my mind  - boxes of lilies and roses  this is the fifth year anniversary  of manman's passing  - trying to arrange my father's face in playdo— often im a prisoner of indifference - throat parched  what was migration to Louisiana like  from Nova Scotia i often wonder  - a desire to drink and drink... some man buys me  a hamburger and we speak about music - a desire to sleep and sleep ... smelling vanilla from somewhere pacing back and forth - approaching Summer season ... waiting for a bus ive asked God why things are boring - argument in the next house barely listening turning over the eggs checking on the biscuits - extensive arguments and debates he despises Louisiana Creoles because we despised 'Mérikin-yé' * Americans in Kouri-Vini - after work stopping by Krispy Kr

quite weary still the atrocities in Gaza continues 

on a whim jumping into a parked car i feel like tacos from Jack'n the Box

breathing in silence— the sound in my chest  an incoming thunderstorm 

 conflict in Congo is there any place free on earth 

uncomfortable in these seats— another long train ride to his parent's home

little girl's white dress and laughter ... childless  i resume reading my newspaper

climbing into bed pausing to jot down a tanka in three lines like Takuboku 

a wild dream— cabbage boiling in the kitchen i enjoy a cigarette 

under a fat oval sun something between us breaking— charming castle ruins 

in hydrangea rain having a quick jog my thoughts turn the curb before i do

carnations ... this life is an exile, a slow stretch of exile and...and ...

expatriates: cigarette ash and dust on my passport 

on the table  unopened bills ive rewatched  ¨House of Cards¨ three times O, this ennui 

stone Mary stone Jizo.. who do i kneel to tonight?

equal weight given— my dislike  of you of her

looking through glass of hard liquor-- deep amber

amber color of whiskey is it enough  to forget?

night spiders dangle... ´teach me to be a lover...´

Chinese kerria roses now begins  my slow  season 

ice cream sundae Congress passes  another stupid bill

sweeping willow in this senryu world i exist 

softness of cat´s paws... what has Congress done exactly?

cold smokestack my fury my fury glows like embers

lobbying on the Hill— no salient policy for flatulence 

time passing  slowly prying into  my heritage... amid pungency of sugar cane reclaiming my Louisiana Creole heritage

softness of cat´s paws... what has Congress done exactly?

sweeping willow in this senryu world i exist 

ice cream sundae Congress passes  another stupid bill

Chinese kerria roses now begins  my slow  season 

night spiders dangle... ´teach me to be a lover...´

amber color of whiskey is it enough  to forget?

looking through glass of hard liquor-- deep amber