Haiga Archive

early moon young voices fill the empty road

cotton bolls —
as if the moon
gave birth

following
my daughter’s eyes
spring rain

She went under at the age of fifteen, bootstrapped into
shadows and omission. Like fledgling revolution, she was
all elbows and ankles and steel, cutting her teeth on clumsy
hits, dealing in lies and speculation. Hers was a radical
sensibility, always metal, cold in her hands, the slow click, bolt
through the shaft of her imagination. Now she’s high
scandal, trafficking caution and cash, a portrait of long
thighs and wrists. There’s no way out when you’re in
demand, there is only down, down and onward.

foggy morning
a heron slumped
standing yet still

limitless sky
today
I leap

egg Chicken Carbon T rex Hydrogen