for Martin Heidegger
like a child
shoved
down the playground slide
scared
I reach this age
forty six
a long strip
of white sand
washed by waves
no footprints left
separated
by a thin wall
I've never
greeted my neighbour
Death
Death
(whom I just befriended)
and I
chat about our dreams
through the vent in the wall
Death lurks
about the room
taunting
how can I stop her
from editing my poems?
Death and I
face to face
minds apart
staring in silence
who will blink first
July/August 2010 issue of Sketchbook
Cool Announcement: Celebrate Tanka Poetry Month with NeverEnding Story
-
My Dear Friends and Readers:
*May is the month of wishes and expectations, a time born for tanka. Every
verse should hold the essence of the season: singi...
