I sketch the grass.
Paddling swan in feathers.
The time that passed.
I write these words to end a tanka.
The cranes cry to the cov’ring cloud.
Do you hear?
Notebook completed; page un-blanked; th’caress of wind-soothed heat.
These pages three, in their loose ‘n blank-lined state, are, together, a haiku.
Neurotaclismic chasmmind find pain in memorandemonia
The city spreads its sprawl.
Poetry books for sale!
Poetry collections – bespoke & not – for sale!