Keep straight down this block,
Then turn right where you will find
A peach tree blooming.
writing a haiku
five, seven, five syllables
still, this doesn’t count
first autumn morning
the mirror I stare into
shows my fathers face
Swing your heavy scythe
Cutting me down in my prime
Your harvest is cruel
Keep straight down this block,
Then turn right where you will find
A peach tree blooming.
i stroke pianos
eighty eight mouths. each one sings
hot colors of joy