mollusk

telemedicine  appointment over breeze and this  late noon sunset

talk  of cactus flowers in the kitchen wearing  granmær's  old  sky blue apron 

anticipating  leaving work once home  its the undressing that i enjoy 

change in career—is hope possible in Trumpian America hellfire: feeling tongues on back of my neck  wearing boat shoes—things just don't seem normal  wilting magnolias in and out of this white noise messy hair this morning: mint tea and old newspapers fertility clinic—husband and wife divorcing after 5 yrs challenges of life: marriage has a certain bite to it

 "Tou shanm a koushé gin maringwin."  (all bedrooms have (there own) mosquitos) /everyone has skeletons in their closets/ — Kouri-Vini (Louisiana Creole) proverb

 all this  hotel laughter behind me  hearing the rushing of  dark waters  criticized  by a white guy for speaking Ebonics without any shame more than one argument about Black English... there will be  no more code switching by me  bite into a crisp apple  his pungent coffee  hides his contempt at my Southern drawl "King's English"  and Vernaculars ... when did speech  become so elitist  early this morning  a glass of peach schnapps... some days  i just dont give a f*ck anymore  (sedoka)) will i be crucified  for speaking  in all my Blackness... "oh you speak so well"  'for a Black man'  i say to myself  already my body is tired with fatigue—before work, another swig of flavored vodka lust sunk deep inside me, Black men White men Mixed men and still this...foreboding  not hungry yet starving and...a fifteen minute bus ride to work seems like a trip to hell  beautiful devils ...

pigeons pecking everywhere, weeks seems to mock me  yellowed photos of family, tractor in background sepia too mint tea chill between us carries weight aged rosary— no more room  for any prayers needing to pray only a T'ang poem comes out morning fatigue solitary daisies on  dirty breakfast table "save America..." packing my things  for Hell cranberry juice for breakfast, too much haiku education tiresome "Immigration's the problem" words said by an immigrant  in dark woods  all the misunderstandings  monmon left me remnants of rain: 17 onji of senryu of haiku political climate dismal...weighty—getting more eggs harboring resentment, thoughts i don't vocalize toward Trump 'happy marriage' quite the lie—the potatoes a bit hard  each bite of bacon...blistering winter wind inside this place hometown soil, cling to my shoes eating a BLT traumatized by roaches—my Starbucks' runnin' late morning rain yesterday's bad decisions greet me  hang...

minutes before going to work...Election Day November 5th leaving coffee mug on counter, apartment chilly  aged futon—reading Tatsuhiko's one line tanka  trash has apple-smell, 1pm sun quite lovely 

Onishi Yasuyo (1949-) notable Japanese #senryu poet. She started writing senryu at 26. Onishi's senryu have strong poetic elements, and often incorporate seasonal words equivalent to haiku. Here senryu are on the same level as toptier haiku and she's won both haiku and senryu awards. her works are also included in the Modern Haiku Association 's Modern Haiku Database, so she is considered a writer who stands on the border between haiku and senryu. Onishi herself is adamant about the name senryu, saying, "I want my poems to be read as 'senryu'." 

'what is senryu?' only you and i—silly growing willow: remembering some childhood memory group of cheap pens: ive had better days  quickly heading home—finally i feel redeemed 

unhampered with feelings—morning shopping trip mewing kitten: a sharp rainpour on this Monday hair done...stepping into a sepia-colored world talk is cheap: turning another news program 

tears of workingclass, sumptuous in politician's mouths abysmal feelings, darkness of an unwelcomed day pile of dead leaves children leaving for school  tortoiseshell earrings: more than woman or wife