Haiga Archive

hemmed in by snow—
red apples lined up
on the windowsill

painting
the same landscape
since yesterday…
a dripping tear points up
the need for moon

moanful wind
turns the leaves
into falling…
such a fitting eulogy
for the homeless artist

imperfect splice of falling leaves…bookbinding old letters

armistice—
from time to time it still falls
a nut on the window

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