Haiga Archive

puddle jumping
the SNAP
of a child’s gum

morning mist
the sleepy heads
of iris

old wood creaking,,,
the light footsteps
of birds

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.

the distance between
a gate, or through it all
the space you learn to live through love and war
rapture
a detail often missed

over the wheel like
Catherine’s
belly clenches
jostled onto
tightly welded
slivers
or covered by
plaster, flawless
puttied into
loveliness
perhaps
pilgrimage,
a brazen sky

morning chill
our pumpkin’s
wrinkled smile