Coolness of this morning’s carpet, a moth flutters by the front door.
There is a cutting truth, the kind of truth that stops the argument in its tracks, there is no wiggling around it
—as soon as the truth is seen it cuts through any illusion immediately.
mind over mind
reality seems ether thin
Fledglings in and out
Of baby yew. . . and i’m
The only one watching!
Here’s my entry for this weeks #Haikai Challenge: Cicada
Cicada husks on siding of my memory -back to school shopping
To check out the other entries and add one yourself…
Security guard walks by, radioing a description of the weiner dog.
i’ve forgotten the shapes of countries, i can’t recognize the globe; replacing their memory with the feel of wind in my face.
—and the ‘gulls no doubt sing atop the marbled ruin of Her return.
blue ceramic dish,
last nights soy and wasabi
still stings the eyes