Alan says that he will not sleep
in the dining room any more.
Alan says that there’s not a rat,
there is a rat infestation.
Last night one crawled
across his foot and then another
sniffed his hair for several seconds.

The Arrival

For years on end I have been sitting here
Impatiently awaiting potency; some explosive revelatory surge
That will carry me away and permit no looking back.
But this moment of deliverance has not arrived,
And I have done nothing to hasten it.
Perhaps it doesn’t matter.
Perhaps I wasn’t meant to do anything:
In which case, I have succeeded admirably.

Man in purple glasses
reflects the twilight in his gaze.
Boys with skateboards lounge so fiercely
they are exposed
and naked as their tawny cheeks,
their swagger clinging closer than skinny jeans.

At the foot of Haleakeala (Hawaiian: House of the Sun), the volcano under most of Maui County, rests the small crossroad town of Haiku. Living there enabled the author to catch up on postcards while winter fell elsewhere.

I thought I was going to be late. I forgot to set my clock back before I
went to bed last night. Forgot to move the hour back before the leaves fell
from my dreams like the colored leaves that fall from trees. I rushed to work, driving,
trying to set the dashboard clock; my body hunched over the wheel, not paying
attention to the other side of the windshield. The car revved high
before I managed to change gears. This took my hand off the clock
and put my eyes onto the street.