surprise—unreeling
tape, rope, or time never
really loops
Memory
12/28/20: Perhaps So?
imagine snow—
the smell just before it falls—
as smiles starting
12/27/20: Perhaps Not?
wheeling dreams—
nocturnal sorts—swishing in
a black cup of sky
12/25/20: We Need a Little Christmas
some unlocked something—
green and red memory
tripping tumblers
12/24/20: Mom Gives Up Naming the Unnamed in Old Photographs
they’re now stories—rays
without suns—hearts of light
beaming anyway
12/18/20: Memory’s Weight in Rain
they say you’re wet
when you’re wet—no use
regretting clothes
12/14/20: Leang Timpuseng
in dark recesses—
flame moves every animal
and urge
12/8/20: Am I Old?
opening and
closing day—the sore hinges
of books and bones
12/7/20: My Younger Brother’s 60th Birthday
do you still know us
as children—elbows and knees
clashing in love?
12/6/20: Remembering Someone
your face—
there—like waking in an
unfamiliar room
haiku streak 