Sijo
Opening lines: we talk of rain,
the privilege of cold fronts.
How rare it is--this permission--
to fold into labyrinths.
Tomorrow the sky disappears.
Scarabs crack beneath our feet.
*
Three Haiku for Mad Scientists
disinfect
scavenged anatomies
tattered lotus
giant axons
disinterring dew frost
from tin cans
rice sparrows
distal to neon
scattered graves
*
faerie knight
in the bathroom mirror
changeling
*
final call
through a sidewalk crack
siren song
*
partial thaw
the last lake maiden
swipes right
*
boundary crossing
craving the hot stings
of hex marks
*
pruning
unwanted rootlets
hedge witch
*
denied magics
brambles till wild
into skin
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