Haiga Archive

with no line to cast
I stand at the swath
and launch my mind
into froth…
another poem caught

coming in
to land
another
of your
home truths

old friend
you come
and you go
leaving only traces
of your true colors

reciting our lies…
I’ll tell you I haven’t
been waiting long
and you’ll tell me
the traffic was murder

under a smear of storm
I write false sentiment
little white lies
that grow and grow
and burst

come home early
and teach me
about the world
should I decide
to return

what good will it do
to watch the dim light
of your words
trying for the walls
of this widening moment?