Tom Clausen Home
Dim Sum -Tom
Home | Home page | Bio for Tom | Haiku & Senryu -definitions/ thoughts | Haiku Chapbooks ( 1) Autumn Wind in the Cracks (1994) | (2) Unraked Leaves ( 1995) | (3) Standing Here ( 1998) | Homework (2000) Snapshot Press, UK | being there (2005) Swamp Press | Tanka chapbooks (1) A Work of Love (1997) Tiny Poems Press | Growing Late- (2006) Snapshot Press | A Haiku Way of Life | Assorted Haiku | Assorted Senryu | Assorted Tanka | Haibun | Favorite Links | Dim Sum -Tom | Robert T. Clausen | Favorite Haiku | Favorite Senryu | Favorite Tanka | Zen Entries | Memorable Quotes | Dalai Lama | Death Poems | Cat Poems | Dog Poems | Train Poems | Longer poems | Song Lyrics | Rt. 9 Haiku Group | Rt. 9 Haiku Group-Tom 3-23-06 | Haiku Circle (6-02-07) | 4-21-09 Mann Library reading | My email address: tpc2@cornell.edu

Tom was invited to join the Upstate Rt. 9 Haiku Group in 2003 by founding members, John Stevenson, Hilary Tann and Yu Chang. They meet on a monthly basis in Halfmoon, N.Y. at the Tai Pan restaurant, weather and life schedules permitting. Twice a year the group publishes a collection of their haiku and those of a featured guest poet.
Here are the poems from Tom that have appeared in Dim Sum since he joined.

 
 
2001:1 ( first issue- guest poet)
 
 
 
 
 
 
after she's asleep
moving most of her dolls
      away...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
tears
from the cold-
Christmas lights
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
snow patches
throughout the woods
pine scent
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
as I approach
his work station
the mouse clicks
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
most of the rain
    not falling
      on me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the empty room
father and son:
two quiet types
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2003:1
 
 
 
 
 
 
valley fog:
out of it
geese in formation
 
 
 
 
 
bright autumn day
the bus driver yells at me
PAY ATTENTION!
 
 
 
 
 
 
our turn
to stand here-
falls overlook
 
 
 
 
 
 
a key in the pocket
   the coat
     no longer fits
 
 
 
 
 
 
warehouse district-
a late afternoon cloud
spreads
 
 
 
 
 
 
long grocery line
the modest excitement
of my thoughts
 
 
 
 
 
 
late night bus-
a light on
in the fare box
 
 
 
 
 
 
jogging
just past the church
I clean my glasses
 
 
 
 
 
 
late afternoon sun
noisy blackbirds swarm
the transformer
 
 
 
 
 
 
a few floors down
in another building
someone else looks out
 
 
 
 
 
 
my son sniffs
the football-
"is it really pigskin?"
 
 
 
 
 
 
the crowd presses
to look in-
zen garden
 
 
 
 
 
 
extended goodbye
their paved driveway
buckled by roots
 
- for Karen Montner-Silverman
 
 
 
 
 
 
full moon
a coffee can of pennies
holds the door open
 
 
 
 
 
 
mower won't start
  busy as a bee
      a bee
 
 
 
 
 
 
Christmas eve
in her pajamas all day
the youngest one
 
 
 
 
 
 
from room to room
on the Clue Board
a tiny spider
 
 
 
 
 
 
as the spider goes
down the drain
a second thought
 
 
 
 
 
 
2003:2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring wind-
the kid in the neighborhood
has a new whistle
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
March rain-
within the red wine
a nap in my chair
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
always takes his time
the custodian watches
      the floor dry
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
abandoned lot-
chocolate milk carton
bleached white
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     alone
in the middle of a crowd
   someone I knew
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
we know by the degree
he teases his sister-
all better now
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the load tied down-
her painted toe nails
on the dashboard
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
just arrived-
their dog sniffs
our tires
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
class in the forest
they all look up
to the trees
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
reading into it
as much as I can
             my life
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
improving
my handwriting
the high quality paper
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the middle
of some construction
a lilac blooms
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
railroad crossing
an old man
waves at the train
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Discovery channel-
an older male vanquished
heads for the hills
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
straight out
   of a dream
       another day
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
steady rain
a pickle
in the parking lot
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the dates
    on the coins
        I give up...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
zoo safari trail...
ant caravans travel
the railing
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2004:1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
standing here just watching
the spring sun sparkle
on the water
and what is it they say about
living life to the fullest
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
cell phones
they find each other
in the mall
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
between bites
from the apples
    his stare....
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the finished letter
in the envelope...
taken out again
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Veteran's Day
the normal route
past the cemetery
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
picture window
in all that white
a cardinal
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
flea market-
a Rubik's cube
already solved
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
where I sit
on my usual bench
remains of a nut
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a little tree-
not enough shade
to sit in
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lingering in bed
the ceiling
has no answers
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
framed photo-
the three of us
close back then
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
under my breath
    "oh boy"
sitting down for lunch
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
an old oak
on a hairpin turn
dark scarlet
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
autumn colors-
how assertive
she becomes
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I choose one-
a roomful of chairs
without people
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
snowfall
my daughter asks where
we are going...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
soft spoken-
on her windowsill
more snow
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
first snow gone-
this steady need
to practice
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
alone with the cat
the look between us
held awhile...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
potluck luncheon-
a yellow jacket cleans
its antennae
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2004:2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
long conversation...
through different windows
the sky
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
having brushed off
several small ants
an extra large one...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
loud storm
I think of
our roofer
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring sun
good enough
right where I am
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
mid day
my son's bear hug
still with me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
for lunch
looking for an empty room
room after room
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
our daughter tells us:
let the listing goldfish
live as long as it can
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
taking me back...
water laps gently
at the shore
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
old farm house-
the pitch of the
patterned linoleum
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
our child
who will not go to sleep-
sheep on her pajamas
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my wife removes
the parakeet's mirror
for awhile...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
left and right
he follows the way
of his kicked stone
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
without any music
I catch myself
tapping in time
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring in the air
so many false starts
in my heart
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
to start the day
her slipper sounds
too fast
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
on hold...
branches in the window
wave wildly
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
empty classroom
windows open
to summer
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2005:1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
sweet corn on the cob
thinking of my old
typewriter
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
gray morning-
a workman with a fancy watch
mixes mortar
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
one short chapter-
I move the lawn chair
to reclaim some sun
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
just oatmeal
the waitress says
   "enjoy"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
before I pick up the nickel
a rain drop
on Jefferson's head
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
her tossed jacket
another place
for the cat
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my arm snagged-
a good look at
the wild rose
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
fall colors
in the lake-
one thought after another
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
pawn shop
guitars and guns
lined up
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
bike ride
as fast as I go
the moon on the water
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
crows jabber
at daybreak-
if that were all
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
cross country skiing...
twenty-two falls
her big brother's count
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
snow falling
I read myself
to sleep
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
meditation...
i remember I left
the lights on
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my wife asks
if she should feel sorry for me
"I've got it covered"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
her voice-
flake by flake collects
 on a twig
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
big test day
she scrambles an extra egg
for his breakfast
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
outside
in the dark
I let my imagination go
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
dying light
at the corner of the shed
chickens peck away
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2005:2
 
 
 
 
 
hunting four leaf clovers
students discuss
their childhoods
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the car singing
until I'm passed
and seen...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my mistakes-
no matter how many
coats of paint
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring air-
bumping into someone
I thought was dead
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring rain-
the cat in the window
washes its face
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring sun-
making a list
of what makes me happy
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
illuminated clouds-
a store for sale
way out here
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
brilliant spring
the ambulance passes
quietly
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Valentine's Day-
I forget to get
the garbage out
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
last sandwich
from the loaf
the two ends
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
relatives set to visit
so many cobwebs
to remove
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
resting in the shade
an elderly man sits
on a gravestone
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the river
full of ice
broken free...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
happiness...
a child I don't know
waving at me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
exam week
she lies face up
in the rain
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a dime on the walk
a stranger
beats me to it
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
our two loudest
on vacation
in the same week
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring twilight
a young couple play badminton
without a net
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
sun pops out
a construction worker
breaks into song
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2006:1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
day's end
rinsing the fish
in tap water
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
so many years
to remember...
I sit up straight
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
she turns down
my favorite music...
plays recorder for me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
daybreak-
the spider centered
in its web
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in my room
just thinking...
do not disturb
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
doubting myself...
but he looked too good
to need a quarter
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
night train-
part of myself reflected
in thought
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
looking busy
as my wife
pulls in
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
on the windowsill
her first tooth
without the tooth fairy
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in a hollow
at the base of the trunk
a seedling
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
quiet part...
out loud a little one asks
"when will it end?"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
first game
doing her best
to avoid the ball
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a crow
circling like a hawk
but it is a crow
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the dumpster
potted plants
take the rain
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2006:2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
stand of tall trees-
not sure what
I'm turning into
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
dinner time-
each night
a fallen hero
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Father Leo
two seats down the pew
doing a puzzle
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
winter wind
the voice of one tree
after another
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
walking alone...
a submerged log
comes to light
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lined
with plump rain drops
the clothesline
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
sitting alone...
her second time through
the newspaper
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the mourning dove
lowers itself
to take off...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
blue sky-
nothing constructive
to offer
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
moments into
my music
the vacuum cleaner
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
dandelions-
I give someone
easy directions
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
behind the wheel-
yet another of his
personalities
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
last day of school-
she tells me there was nothing
more to learn
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the garden
right by St. Francis
the woodchuck hole
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
so many books
  I can't find
     one
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
quickly
after the artery scan
a Danish
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the day lilies-
some have crossed
the road
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
afternoon sun
a chef naps
at one of the tables
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Sunday morning-
a brook sparkles
out of the hills
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2007:1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
strip mall-
the shimmer of leaves
on a new tree
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
muffler shop
a man managing
his cough
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in our doorway
a man reads to me
a bible passage
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
beginning late...
    the under attended
     concert
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
morning sun
just a plain paper bag
with frost
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
evening star-
    the horizon
    of my childhood
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
walking the tracks
my thoughts
go nowhere
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
near zero-
just rabbits
and crows
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the cashier
holds another large bill
up to the light
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
water
       from the flower vase
                   returned to the garden
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
unmarked grave-
a chicken
named Sunflower
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
mixed blessing
my best critic
at home
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
warm winter day-
our dog squints
for a scent
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
old friends talk-
each holding
car keys
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
geese
in the deep bowl of sky
salmon clouds
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
breakdown lane
        plastered
                 with political stickers
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my wife catches me
picking from our trash
again
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
overwintering
in the hay wagon
scarecrow
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
dining room
next to my wife's chair
her dog at attention
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2007:2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
construction site-
folks gathered around
the newborn
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
those were the days...
she'd meet me halfway
from work
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
flurries...
a truck piled high
with hay
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
too faint
for my son to see
a little used trail
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
light rain...
a sense of trust
along the way
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  trying to figure
how to spend it...
  a little free time
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
priceless-
a poor night's sleep
in the tent
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
sun comes out...
the walk home
with my shadow
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
full of dirt
a dump truck waits
for her to cross
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
summer-
seeing more
of her
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
flower garden
where she buries
the goldfish
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
pleasant forecast-
my wife announces
her plan
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
so many things
I need to do
    alone
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
wasting not
a moment
spring peepers
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
urologist's office-
a framed photograph
of the falls
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the place emptied...
a spring breeze
blows through
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the dark
seeing my flashlight batteries
dying
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a week before he died-
new glasses
for distance
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
just in case-
weighing myself again
after the shower
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
late day sun-
at the edge of the party
everyone aglow
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2008:1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
rundown docks-
minnows schooling
around the trawler
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
cruise control...
unable to decide what
to think about
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
mixed in
with the instructions
her perfume
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
restlessness
in the night...
not even a senryu
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
busy bar
another case of
mistaken identity
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
full moon
    he tells me
        his side of the story
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
through dinner
our dog waits...
then eats his own
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
winter sky-
an empty nest
left behind
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
ninety years
each of her cocker spaniels
named "Honey"
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
rivals:
my wife has named our computer
Charlotte
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my children
don't want to stop
historical marker
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
turning back
in the harsh wind
a crow cawing
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my wife tells me
I'm going to make it-
common cold
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the hills...
each house nestled
in the dark
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the kitten kneads
at empty space
bottle feeding
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
drive-thru bank
         sun on the oil slicks
                    in each bay
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the kiddie pool
a couple of ducks
   go at it
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
first night away-
we discuss
our pets
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2008:2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
well worn
the lowest branch
at school
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
misplaced again
the address
for my gypsy niece
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Gettysburg-
a different motel
this time
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my daughter growing...
      closer and closer
            to the mirror
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
offset from its stain
a rusted washer
on the boat's deck
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
retirement home-
seagulls lined up
on the jetty
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
to upgrade
his iPhone
the young beggar
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
baby rabbit
not scared
enough...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
for the day
the cat favors
a paper bag
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
thunder and lightning...
my wife gets up
to lock the door
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
behind the shed
grass growing
from a hay bale
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
biking slowly
through a shower
of cherry petals...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the sudoku
I'm stuck on
light and easy
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring morning...
so many birds
telling it!
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my wife not well-
we follow through
the cemetery visit
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
cold wind-
a stranger looks at me
like a friend
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
before the auction-
my wife trying to catch
a chicken
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
forsythia-
in the yard again
moving stones
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring twilight-
to think she once played
Tinkerbell
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
mascara-
staring off
at the clouds
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2009:1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
of age
my son donates
to a candidate
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
by myself
at the end of the bed
a chocolate
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
looking up
as far as we got
the moon
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
just a shiver
of not being here
- the stars
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
getting the newspaper...
just enough snow
for footprints
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
county fair-
the parachutist lands
elsewhere
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
school taxes
cider and donuts
at the bank
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
almost everything
iced over-
chickadees
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Physical Therapy...
the cat tilts its head
side to side
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
walking home...
some of the snowfall
rides on me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a couple
holding hands
testing the ice
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
trying to get my glove off shaking hands
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
twilight-
how casually the deer
cross the road
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the universe
of my thoughts
contracting
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
daybreak-
the boats
at rest
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
every
one
in
line
for
basket
ball
tickets
so
tall
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
three trees
so close together
in the moonlight
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the same sentence
my wife mentions my role
and the wallpaper
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
goldenrods-
the bee's
appendages
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
with his cane
waving to everyone
who passes...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2009:2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
abandoned car-
the place for campfires
and many moons
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
driving real slow
the old pickup
shaky too...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
roaring wind-
my little thoughts
for tomorrow
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
blushes of green
I follow her
into the woods
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
long lunch
getting to the heart
of the paperback
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
lamb's ear
softening
the quarry
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring sun stirring in the pond
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
motel overnight-
once again I see
my whole self
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
mid-summer
he moves everything out
of the garage
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
another day
a few birds fly
across the sunset
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
snow melt
a bottle in the remnants
of a paper bag
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
moment of silence-
bubbles surface
on his beer
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
an hour
from his bath
our dog has rolled again
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
nearly empty theater...
      how close
      they sit
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
July 4th
at the stockyards
just a few sows
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
spring planting
petals scattered over
turned earth
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the current
up under the bridge
into the ice jam
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
almost done-
my wife starts whistling
to herself
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
suddenly
a fruit fly
interested in me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
in the tent
talking ourselves
to sleep
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
her apron on
leaving one house
for another
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
new day
bringing water
to my face
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2010:1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
     fog
  over the valley
shape of the inlet
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
so many things
I can't tell my wife
her barking dog
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
so much unclear-
snow melting
from a locked bike
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
cold night
semiconscious tug-of-war
with my wife
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the dog in me
a warm breeze rustles
through the corn rows
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
startling me
startled
pheasant
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
kicking around town ever since Vietnam
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
before or after birth
our relationship
with the stars
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
within the grain
of the table
a dragon
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
passing me by
in the stillness
a snowmobile
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the easy chair-
out of sight
of my family
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
quiet out-
while resting I find
my pulse
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
wings open wide
                        as they enter
                                            the river
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
home
another sunset
over the hill
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
heat wave
no time
to go back
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
how slowly
   he drives
        across her lawn
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
summer night-
walking into
her perfume
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
harvest moon-
more clothes designated
for pajamas
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the house gone
I take the steps to see
the foundation...
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
autumn wind-
the squirrel's high wire act
over traffic
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
another Thanksgiving
the fold-out turkey
at her desk
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2010:2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
sitting in the sun
not even trying
to figure anything out
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
my beer:
claiming it's best
in 1893
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the big snake
on the road ahead
a branch
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   all the time
ending and beginning
   the universe
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
May day-
a dandelion in a pot
at the nursery
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
kids
in a tree
I once climbed
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
on the street
a person really happy
about something
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
he stands there
a sheet
over his seedlings
 
 
 
 
 
 
opening my mouth
to say hello
a bug flies in
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
midnight-
the cat steps on
just one piano key
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
after the rain
a snail pulling away
from itself
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
snow melt
a fly lands
on me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
fireflies
the cat at the door
doesn't want to come in
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
under the fence
into the chicken yard
      a caterpillar
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
redwing blackbirds
snow in patches
between headstones
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
I carry it around
then place it back
a candy bar
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
whale watch-
those waiting to board watch
those getting off
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
twilight
  with my wife
    hydrangea blossoms
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
winter wreckage-
no card from her
this year
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
hot night-
looking to the heavens
with a popsicle
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
outside the meeting
back and forth
the sprinkler
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2011:1
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
coming in
under the greenhouse door
a strand of ivy
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
feeling down-
a quick visit to my parents
in the cemetery
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
yesterday's coffee-
fruit flies hanging out
by the mirror
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Happy Holidays-
I fasten
my seatbelt
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
more or less
trees frame where
the farmhouse was
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
staff meeting-
I identify
with the last donut
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
as if to show me
the wind pulls up
a swirl of snow
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the way
the waterfall flows
into being frozen
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
one generation
pushing another
in a swing
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
empty nest-
he gets a single fish
in a bowl
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
autumn silence-
clippers rusted shut
in the garden
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
after the river boat... the river
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the lumber yard
surrounded
by forest
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
another day
without any sheep
our sheep dog
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a measure
of the night's cold
our cat's affection
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
old photo...
the detective
in me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
hints of a headache-
leaves blowing around
the tree
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
our quiet-
flowing over and under
the ice
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Mother's Day-
a mix of sun
wind and rain
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
from the ball game
the camera zooms
to the moon
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
cold hands-
the moon
half full
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
gates
to the cemetery
in shambles
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
summer night-
walking into
her perfume
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
2011:2
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
between poems
the wind
in the microphone
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
another day
I don't look
in the mirror
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
dawn-
turning off
the night light
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
takes off
in the wind
his hand blown kiss
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
on the surface
   riding downstream
     some of the twilight
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
here I am
in the same place again
trillium
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
the opening
just right
Orion's belt
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
scattered
with feathers
red berries
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
old snow
I keep my quiet
around her
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
attic cleanup...
placing some stones
back outside
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
rainy night-
climbing Everest
in the easy chair
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
more snow-
a man on the bus
with a braille laptop
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
a Happy Camper pulls up next to us
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
at the dentist
renovation work
next door
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
thunder and lightning-
one of the dogs becomes
part of me
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
near zero night
my breath
comes and goes
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
on his way
to the interview
picking lint
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
late autumn-
leaves in a pile
cling together
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
second foul shot...
just the sound
of pompoms
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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