Suddenly It Dawns On One In Transylvania

One more day.
The grey flaking

Hostel shutters flap open 

In a relentless wind, 
There’s no one

Strong enough to keep 
The dead in. 

Missive To John Levy In Tucson

Hi, brother— 

Since you asked about Rita 
In your last letter, last I heard 
Your foraging hunchback dwarf 
With the unflagging energy 
And beautiful bouquets 
Of overwhelmingly sweet 
Smelling narcissi who kept 
Coming back to your door 
On her little red bike in 1984 
After you’d already bought four 
Of them and placed one 
In each of your house’s 
Three small rooms plus 
Bringing one to my mother 
As a name day gift is now 
Where her siblings put her— 
In an old folks’ home 
In Kalamata—that’s all 
I know for sure for now,
But thinking back on how 
Fiercely she fought and persevered 
Against the ugliness of people 
Surrounding her, I also like 
To think her new surroundings 
Are chock full of plenty pretty
Flowers like the ones 
You bought from her, too. 


All the best 
From your brother in the boondocks 
Of the southern Peloponnese 

Autumnal Ritual

Centenarian plane tree 
Waving goodbye 

To golden leaves, black- 
Garbed old woman 

Meticulously sweeping 
House walkway clean. 

If The Truth Were Known

You wake up after dreaming 
You’ll be deprived of everything 
In the by and by— 

A sycophant’s somewhere 
In your subconscious 
Telling you not to worry, 

Everything’s a lie. 

Early Spring Haiku

Bashô stares at fronds 
Shaggy with hoarfrost ringing 
Frozen froggy pond.