“You may go to
hell,
and I will go to Texas.”
—Davy
Crockett
thirty-five years
since the dust of Texas
stained my boots,
I wonder if I can
find the family graves
Ash Moon: Tanka on Aging. Baltimore, MD: Modern
English Tanka Press, 2008.
what lesson
was I supposed to learn?
staring at white heroes
surrounded by the walls
of the Alamo
Simply Haiku: A Quarterly Journal of Japanese Short Form
Poetry, 5:3. Autumn, 2007.
This is the room
where Davy Crockett died.
later,
my mother
eating jalapeños
feeling hungover
after only one drink,
the bitter taste
of a party where
I am a stranger
Simply Haiku: A Quarterly Journal of Japanese Short Form
Poetry, 5:3. Autumn, 2007.
saltwater
drying on my back,
sun slipping
into the shadowed place
you will not follow
