a bitter wind
after the inauguration
the white fence
between my neighbor and me
three feet higher
I peep through gaps in the fence
and see ... what do I see?
A dream house made up of words
and a neon sign on its roof,
flashing "Americans First."
I can't live in this promised land anymore.
The land is polluted by drunken words.
And the milk is sour, the honey tasteless.
Haibun Today, 11:2, June 2017
One Man's Maple Moon: New Adventure Tanka by H. Gene Murtha - *English Original* my finger traces the edge of her lips around the corner a new adventure *Biding Time: Selected Poems 2001-2013*, 2013 H. Gene Murt...