7 Haiku
the sublime neutrality of a river stone
mist tangled in cryptomeria
grudgingly
drifting on
on the way back from apple picking
I secretly
smelled my hands
if anyone should ask
about the house sparrows,
I made notes
Yahtzee and the cosmological constant on the same night
dark river wind
the willows
shoot the cuffs
she was the first to see the electrocuted elephant in my burned-out bulb
Patrick Sweeney is a short form poet and a devotee of the public library.
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