a poet weeps verse
to liberate meaning from
the fetters of words.
Category: Haiku
Fifty Three
resolve that quivers
like the face of a pond that’s
at autumn’s mercy.
Twenty
smudged moonlight quivers
off a frosted glass window.
look! third-hand sunshine.
Fourteen
my fingertips twirl
apathy, while he writes on
my feet, poetry.
—
For Peeya