Dean Okamura

Our Late Encounter

None disturb at One O'clock, 

Awake far after prime-time waves. 

Not that we surf, stream, or binge, 

Midnight marks us lost again. 

Alone, our souls perchance reclaim 

That semblance sense—calm refrain. 

Spectral sighs that break the spell, 

Escape the windless wilderness. 

Falcons rise & shred the skies. 

Somnambulist

Why burn the candle in darkest night? 

Timid rattles of the clock 

Serenade the gloom. 

Solitude of restlessness. 

I told people I had insomnia, which

Sounded better than admitting 

Depression. 

Throughout most of my adulthood, 

After a childhood of 

Repressed fragility. 

My real estate agents 

Promised a wonderful life. 

It was a lie. 

Everyone 

Said things 

They thought I wanted to hear. 

So small a soul 

Captured on a 

Scrap of paper. 

This poem on wrapping paper. 

Just 

Before it’s used 

To line the trash can. 

But it’s quiet now, 

As others sleep, and 

I play the part of somnambulist. 

*** 

When I encountered 

Aphrodite’s face lit 

By the rays of the rising sun, 

A soaring falcon never flew so serene. 

Anticipation gripped my shoulders, 

Pulled me out of the pit of dread. 

She encouraged me to come closer. 

Go easy. She said… 

You are designed with flaws. 

30 Pieces

I walked along the cliffs to work on a poem based on 

Judas 

and the 30 pieces of silver, 

but as I strolled along the path, I was greeted by 

the sun, 

who smiled over Catalina Island. 

It was then I noticed after 

30 seconds, 

30 waves, 

30 cactus plants, 

30 palm trees, 

30 resort Casitas. 

(Casita means a tiny house in Spanish, but 

these ocean-side villas sell for more money than workers make in 

30 lifetimes.) 

30 boats in the channel cross 

30 miles from here to Catalina. 

30 bugs buzz in bushes. 

30 birds decorate rocks with white pigment. 

30 outdoor heaters from yesterday's party 

stand at attention, ready for their next commission. 

30 umbrellas stand shoulder-to-shoulder, 

on alert for their next comic relief mission. 

30 steps down the stairway where 

30 pelicans glide over the water. 

The largest bird looks me up and down, 

30 times. He wonders why this poet keeps staring. 

30 cargo container ships sail in circles. 

30 seagulls fly in circles. Ships followed by gulls lined up for something to do. 

30 Cholla cactus guardians armed to stick me with 

30 fiery barbed spines that tear into flesh, like we disrespected their grandma. 

30 whales on migration. I imagine it's their 

30th cruising season from Puerto Vallarta to Glacier Bay. 

Cormorants swim then dive to catch fish. They stay submerged for 

30 seconds. They appear to have perished under the water. But then 

30 meters away, they surface, give me a puzzled look, cock their heads, 

peer at me with one eye. “What’s your problem? The water is awesome.” 

Two lovers hold hands and 

stroll along the sidewalks. 

A little boy plays with 

30 toy cars and planes. 

There is no limit to his imagination. 

The number of planets he visited today totals over 

30 close encounters. And if his mother didn’t stop him, 

he would have traversed 30, 60, 90, or more. 

Today, I walk the trails of Vicente Bluffs Reserve. In 

30 years, they will scatter my ashes. My molecules will rise to the tops of 

30 majestic trees, 

or humble blades of grass.