In exile, this black daylight, can I knock on a wall of silence to make the sound of protest?
in my throat
words just well up...
shrill of cicadas
Will the sky hold my thoughts? Looking out the window, I see a paper bag floating in the wind.
in my throat
words just well up...
shrill of cicadas
Will the sky hold my thoughts? Looking out the window, I see a paper bag floating in the wind.
Haibun Today, 6:2, June 2012
