you are not
open to me, she yells
low spring tide
a firefly
in and out of my shadow
last summer dusk
mid-autumn moon
waiting to see her
in the dream
the winter moon
thinned to a thread
memory of her
September/October 2010 issue of Sketchbook
A Room of My Own: Wind-Spun Petals Haiku
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wind-spun petals
*go back where you came from*
brayed down the block
