winter solstice tanka
winter solstice a cold that travels from my heart to the moon to the other side of silence
Posts
I stare at my hand tanka
I stare at my hands look for visions I haven't braved— a haven without sea surf or undertow
watching a ginkgo tree Tanka
watching a ginkgo tree through a hospital window... should I say I'm sixty-three, or that I’m a devotee of Eros?