why we're back (poem)

for Chia Tao

old ones, we all find ourselves
back here when we were certainly on the verge

of being cloud-dragons. so male, so
stubborn in our meditations, unlike trees

even the animals we mimicked felt
their way through life not putting

blades through their chests for shame
of nurturing another warm living thing

someone you love, dies and you
berate yourself for feeling sad

potato vine (poem)

sitting, all I can do
today, a little gardening

the wind carries spirits, my own
heart is agitated

the fern's fractal leaf, a jasmine star
flower on a potato vine

smell of black earth humus.
my hands reach more deeply into it.

butter and blood (poem)

Fear lives in the throat.
I can feel it three fingers down
from the soft basin,
thimbleful of fear.

It tastes of butter and blood
the cheek bitten
the breath drawn in.

Some days it is impossible for me to leave
my house.

All day I eat it down
it mingles with the food
but does not move.

Like a swallow
it circles,
crying.