Before the boats return from dry
dock’s winter-long sabbatical
the harbor soaks up early sun
without a passing sail of care
filling primeval emptiness
with deep subconscious images:
blue water, waves, white-caps, a floating bird,
and unseen creatures named without one word.
AGING PERHAPS, BUT NEVER OLD
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I do not advocate making this kind of hokku a habit, because it tends to
perpetuate the notion of the verse form as a kind of flippant game.
Nonetheless, t...
2 weeks ago

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