a few haiku

this tender wound from which flowers hope it never heals

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white blossom ache in the long bones of the moon

language of dead white ones. Turn the page and

night shift at the poison factory a radio set to static

worms with familiar faces plunder the emotion of lightning

black licorice in plastic dreamless sleep

black by stars: gap in the smile: annunciation

I darken

a blank

page

at night

hoping for stars

which tracks an elastic mood. In her sea you see

I see your crab prince and raise an abalone shell