at midnight
my thoughts and hand moving
across the page:
I tanka-barricade
...
snow on snow...
at the bottom
of this beer pitcher
theempty home
...
scattered shards
of winter moonlight...
the night grows darker
but not darker
...
in the claw
of 3 a.m. insomnia
I'm choked by fear:
sleeping alone
...
early snow
blankets the skylight
loneliness
a many-mouthed bird
...
(for Langston Hughes)
this dream of living
alone in a glass house
...
old Taiwan map
on my attic wall -
winding through
the corridors of my mind
...