Haiga Archive

a circle of chalk
in the middle of the crowd—
self portrait

trills of birds—
I get away from the trees
to see the forest

a violin
moaning on a bench—
I stay around

leaving birds—
they are all the same
from behind

respiro—
ink and dandelion milk
on fingertips

I see you better
when you are nowhere
to be found—
a summer-resistant
snowflake on my shoulder

black clouds
chasing a muddled bird
with no mate—
if i turned around
you might think I’m crying