Saturday, September 23, 2006

The Right Time

b
b
b

the right fielder,

his eyes caught
by the rising moon




autumn sunset
trying to remember
how an eclipse works




the new moon
crosses the sun
first autumn morning




Seen in the mirror near the door of the pizza place on 8th Avenue and 13th Street:

a man carrying
a bouquet of roses --
the couple he becomes




isn't this a fine daybbbto quit your job?




flickering plane lights,

the river's rhythmic surface




autumn sunset
pen-shaped clouds
crossed by planes




time speeds up
time slows down
. . . your move



hudson river view
the new mexico colors
overshadow Liberty




choppy waterbbbon the hudson
seeing ghostsbbbor souls rising



9/11/06
turning in a suitably bland
letter
of resignation




© Judy Kamilhor 2006

Sunday, September 17, 2006

No time like the present/Shadows

no time
to waste
haiku



leaving my house
today
dressed for yesterday



Shadow series



september afternoon
enough dark clouds
to go around



pigeons playing tag
september 11, 2006



walking downtown
the sun follows me --
anniversary



still too light
to see the lights
over downtown



waiting for the
downtown lights
the rumble of a
rolling trash can



a hint of pink
in the dark clouds
september sunset



the sun setting
over the yacht lot
chelsea piers



downtown sunset
the last bits of gold
fall from the tower



memory lights
burn the shadows
from the sky



© 2006 Judy Kamilhor

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Windows and what they mean


seeing someone's bed

from a paused f train
window to window



early dusk
white garbage trucks
line the street



life and the
reflection of life
chinese restaurant window



bbbb bcreatingbbba new sabbath
one day for mebbbseven for god





A Day Passing

last night's
fear of never
seeing him again, then
running into him this morning
sunrise



tropical depression
spreads branches on the street
autumn in the void



street sparrows
shooting in all directions
all but one



forgetting my father's
death anniversary
last night he died again



sidewalk trail
of broken twigs,
leafless



© Judy Kamilhor 2006