Hwy 185 Sixteen Days After The Election

Both sides

of the highway--

you thought it was just fog

until the smoke burned the tears from

your eyes

k-na-s-go-wa

outlines
in the grass from
where the canoe once slept...
in the next dream the heron, too,
has left

The Place Where It Started

We still 
wear our face masks
on the subway to work.
        No one talks or pretends this is
        normal.

January Valentine

maybe

it's the roses,

or maybe it's the wine;

sometimes everything just seems to

align