contemporary haiku since 1994
March 29, 2024 § Leave a comment
•
she suspects
you don’t believe
she saw a fox
the gnats will remain
in the restroom
for the weekend
pock marks
in the concrete
wet with melted hail
bag of sugar
ants leave a trail of
even smaller grains
it’s hard to explain
the sign that says
the heath
March 28, 2024 § Leave a comment
back home
the clock’s weight
stopped by a stool
left on the charred
bank of the river
chimneys
curtain of mist
not sure which side
of it we’re on
the driving hail
keeps us silent
at dusk
asleep in a chair
my wife moves her fingers
like a catcher
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