remembrance haiku

I dreamed of the space
where you used to be, but was
not granted your face.

today we hung bells,
the green ones you loved – so much
I have forgotten.

around the fire, we
still tell stories. always, we
will tell your stories.

Mushroom

What did you forget
about the forest floor? Where
it has rained for a thousand years

or more.  Maybe all
of the answers
are lying there

in the wet black earth,
where already there is
new life growing,

and the old life dying,
and a patch of mushrooms
that you bend to collect,

the last of the season,
and you fill
your sack

with questions,
each one
delicious.

Where in Time

Pay no mind
if you cannot remember
that it is Tuesday
or that the sun is in the sky
(not the moon),
or that your cell phone
is still, is still inside
your pocket, instead
remember
the purple Jacaranda
tree in full violet bloom
and cotton candy flowers,
remember the custard
and how you love to lick
out the insides
like a small boy
on a concrete stoop
in Brooklyn – chocolate
melting down his chin
and resembling now
the wild beard
that catches pastry crumbs
behind a sterile curtain
on the seventh floor.