Haiga

two mallards swimming
in the cemetery pool
silence is like that

Pilgrimage: Many and 22 Days: Roses

when the sun hangs
suspended in the afternoon
fog sliding between Tiburon
water and the Presidio
sometimes I find a rose
glowing against the gray
a passion unrequited
a fragrance unexpected
a moment of flame in mist

Pilgrimage: Twenty-one Weeks: The Bittersweet Café

we went there for coffee
chocolate zucchini bread
disappointment and tension
hovering on the periphery
the angry angels' tendons stretched
to breaking
we went to the Bittersweet Cafe for coffee
forgetting that we already live there

Pilgrim: Keep Walking

What day is this on the abacus? What
song are they singing? 
I follow
the short man with the black beret
out of the gallery. He reminds me
of me as I keep 

walking. The artist

who drew one single naked woman into
the inner frame of every cartoon. 
Holding our short, clear glasses of 
white wine, we move from room to room, 
missing the friends that are more than
eleven thousand miles away, 
walking

drawing with the pictures of what
is right in front of us. one two three.

one  two  three

Pilgrimage: Twenty Weeks: Friday Fiesta at the Taproom

Natural IPA and a Beatles cover
I showed them how to dance the jerk
we ate burritos and watched the old Hippie
nod and smile as the taxman blared in our ears
and the baby smiled

Pilgrimage: Week 19: Sunflower

the usual fog across the bay
we had sun
all light and no heat
we sat in the café
drinking coffee
laughing
and in love

Pilgrimage: Step 18: Heat Wave

sun opens
collars
orange shirts
and the tulips in buckets

iced coffee
wet rings
on slate tables
and cold throat memory

yellow tulips
on long stems
heads heavy
and open to beauty

late Spring
sidewalks
cool bare feet
and smiles without hoodies