Think about buildings
empty today—all the rooms
ready for echoes.
Think about buildings
empty today—all the rooms
ready for echoes.
Waiting patiently—
for a new haiku to
float up with the sun.
From here, you can see
the lake flashing all evening,
clinging to the sun.
The train is walking
through the station so each face
can see the others.
Why do I never
see the planes I hear, as if
they flew elsewhere?
Gray crowds the day with
clouds—the weighty afternoon
too thick to think through.
A world without us
might still be dreaming—its days
unmarked and flowing.
The trees fill with green
and become one shape, lobed like
great brains watching us.
I dreamt of sleeping,
but the hours circled like
hawks overhead.
Forgotten haiku—
all written to recall, all
fading in sunlight.