September 2018

The smell of fennel--
bees walk on yellow flowers,
smelling ocean air.

----

Weeds and flowers,
wild fennel and iceplant--
occasional butterflies.

----
Gulls cry a lot.
Summer's last hurrah--
Maybe they're hot.

----
Peaceful walk--
except for the pebble
in my shoe.

----
The ocean's edge
smells of weed and pee.
People sure fuck things up.

----
Shimmering sea,
Indian Summer sun beats down--
a grebe floats alone.

More from awhile ago

All the fog!
There's a city back there,
but you'd never know.

-------------

Sub par tacos
and no Horchata!
Cold wind through the open door....
Disappointment mounts
with every bite.

--------------

He hurries down hill,
the red glow of his cigarette
marking his speed.

--------------

Gray green tide creeps in.
The white gull flies away--
now I am alone.

Bee bumbles...

Bee bumbles 
on little purple flowers--
why is he alone?

The rushing of freeways

The rushing of freeways--
a small white and grey stray sneaks
past, alone. 

In Honor of Valentine's Day

As I know true love,
I'd rather be alone
than fooling myself.

They Say...

The danger comes when 

inertia's gone-- you're alone

again, feeling too much.

5/30/14

Gray afternoon--
stag lies dead along the road,
cold and alone.

At Studio Biongiorno II

Small fountain waters,
lone lavender plant in shade--
Summer's breezes blow.

White ghost and dark page...

White ghost and dark page,
sun upon the water-- night
approaches alone.

Not a Haiku

You remind me of hard rock
and mullets
and Chevys carefully painted with primer;
of boys who never liked me in high school,
who wore hatred as casually as a t-shirt
and as lovingly as a favorite pair of jeans.
And, instantly!, I'm fifteen and ugly again --
feeling alone, fumbling with a cigarette,
wishing you'd deign to just look at me, and
maybe like me just a little.

By Danville Library

In all this beauty,
one plant pocked and frayed alone.
I don't want to see.