Saturday, October 19, 2013

Today I began
to realize how small my
life is without you. 

Tuesday, November 20, 2012



"Lemonade," he thought,
during his mid-morning piss.
"That will quench this thirst."

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Doughnut Lady

Your fingers touched mine
in the exchange: such sweet things
from those small rough hands.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

Wishes 1¢

Grub L.A.

like this come rarely: pick up
those pennies and wish.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010



heat sets the city aflame--
sirens paint my dreams.

Thursday, November 6, 2008

Proposition 8

My equality
in the hands of my neighbors--
ashes on my tongue.

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Christmas vacation
seems less like a holiday
when mandatory.

Monday, July 7, 2008

Spam Squared

Auto-reply: Your
email was received.

Wednesday, April 9, 2008

A rally for what?
An embarrassment for whom?
San Francisco's torch.


Monday, April 7, 2008

I fell in love with
a GAP mannequin today--
his t-shirt, so tight.

gap mannequins

Thursday, March 27, 2008


In the space between
seconds, we are beautiful,
even in decay.


Tuesday, March 25, 2008

Amy's Organic Bowls

A bug in the bowl
may surprise you during lunch--
no fear: it's organic.

Monday, February 18, 2008

The indentation
of your pillow on my face
fades to memory.


Saturday, February 16, 2008

Without you, I am
either a hermit or whore.
You choose--or come home.

Tuesday, February 5, 2008


A woman reviled--
the very definition;
President to some.

Monday, February 4, 2008

I hesitated
to take your hand into mine;
winter gusts, cold and grey.

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Trying to stifle
my cough on the train brought tears
to my eyes today.

crowded train

Monday, January 28, 2008

Swaddled in sheets and
blankets, my nocturnal home,
I am loath to leave.

Sunday, January 27, 2008



Wanting to dance with
my umbrella, the wind gave
me a gentle push.

Friday, January 25, 2008

My ambivalence
trumps your suffering because
I care less than you.

Thursday, January 24, 2008

Damp mischief afoot
outside persuades me to eat
alone at my desk.

Wednesday, January 23, 2008


Chatting about books
with you on the train, I wrote
poems with your smile.

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

The blood in my veins
reached superfluidity
when you said goodbye.

Monday, January 21, 2008

Grey February
skies cast sad silver shadows
and you are not here.

grey sky

Friday, January 18, 2008

For Kim

With three hands, she thought,
my burdens would finally
be manageable.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

January blue
unfurls across the city.
Do you see my breath?

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Foggy morning

The fog-wrapped Bay Bridge
stretches silently eastward,
glancing, once, my way.

Tuesday, January 15, 2008

Why do the homeless
in my neighborhood sleep while
wearing just one shoe?

Just One Shoe

Monday, January 14, 2008

January 14, 2008

With thirty-eight years
under my hat, should I know
something about life?