while waiting for word
winter fell and fell away
Spring came early, so the calendar
can stay in tune with the moon.
No wonder I’m tired:
I’ve lost two days’ sleep!
In all my years of collecting, there’s only one thing I had as a child that I’ve not been able to find. A clear plastic sectional pen. Actually, it was more like a wand.
Amy texts to tell me the Cinerama Dome in Hollywood is about to close. Pang of regret. Gone forever, the only concrete geodesic dome in the world
a Dreaming Princess cake,*
please, with a sprinkle
of fairy dust
on top. Have the unicorn
bring it over to that table
by the window.”
These are not meant to be literal translations, but interpretations, or approximations, of Matsuo Bashō’s haiku. The goal in each case was to capture the essence of the original and add a sparkle of my own
Once upon a time there lived a woman who, instead of hearing what people actually said, heard thoughts that swarmed in people’s heads. In her youth, this woman did not even know that what she heard were other people’s thoughts.
The problem with me, he says, is that my parallel is too nice, thereby making me too mean. Apparently it’s because I clamshell up even though we live a 10-minute walk from a pho place with the best Bun Bo Hue in Sunnyvale, because even pho can’t drag me out of this house, from under its short ceiling that feels closer to squashing me into the ground every morning, from the rails of the balcony overlooking the street where I can hear gunshots every several nights even though this area is supposed to be super gentrified, full of software engineers and their 4K monitors.
In the blue light of your bedroom
I could be anything: housewife
mending the shadows as they drape
the clothesline, ghost boy, music
pulled from the belly of the lake.