a few haiku

Month: January, 2014

folds of a dress
in an old painting
the southern hills

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rain runs through the hills a harpsichord

reluctant to hyphenate the clouds of August

me and Shakespeare walnut shells

morning escapes
through newly empty air
acorns

thinking of throwing it away
I crack and fry up the full moon

insomnia
the pure white
of David’s eyes

one day you and I and all these flowers

pin drop night where my wings used to be

morning songs of foreign birds why I can’t die