My father’s spade
leaning on a box in my cluttered breezeway my father’s spade pants, grip worn smooth, tail twitching, eager for his …
Category Archives: Tanka
Day 30
you would think when walking through woods at night that we’d stumble — but instead we learn to find a …
Day 29
walking through woods in bare moonlight – shade over shade, black within black – I see what cannot be seen …
Day 28: And the greatest of these
is love — which is not really fair to say, for the three intertwine when you sit here, ready, and …
Day 27
a night walk is never simple – shafts of gray light peel back tree bark and find squirrels opining through …
Day 26
you, broad elm, shaved down to earth – I stand now on your great stump, yearn to be your medium, …
Day 25
I claim I know who I am and how, what to write down, but nighttime, wet snow falling presses me …
Day 24
a clean sheet of paper hides every sin, each fumble and misspelling, so you think God spoke to me clean …
