Friday haiku 115

For all I know
I’m standing on someone’s
unremembered grave

All there is

Is it possible to add anything
to a life, to ensure no alley
is left unexplored, no mystery
unexplained, no new device,

no diversion, no distraction
to hurry us along toward
the end of it all, the last
deceit, the final jest?

Shall we die wishing for one more
object, a last lunch, an unread memo?
Shall we panic at the end, unready,
as if no one had told us about this?

Friday haiku 107

If water is life
The sky is immortal
Sigh the trees, fading.

Friday haiku 89

Soaring high above
inside the red-shouldered hawk
the souls of sparrows

Riga, my Riga

In the antique shop
on the ground floor
of the building
where my parents lived
the year they married
I thought I heard someone
call my name
as if I lived there
too, so long before
my birth in the camp.