abandoned, Chinese
ideograms constantly groan
at the door
of my heart, I think of them
while writing poems in English
Gusts, #11
A Room of My Own: Normal Life, A Soap Bubble
-
my friend turns
forty the age his father died
he mutters
*the Grim Reaper haunts me*
*like my walking shadow*
breaking news
at the first light of spring daw...