Thursday, November 22, 2018

letter from Fukushima :: koyomi












Omote




a glance and a nod
then right out that door
deep spring snow


the moving guys squat
wrestling the quilt box


ebb tide
releases its grip
on our indiscretion


in a jerry built shack
beneath comma shaped clouds


timid steps
on icy slate, moonlight
through an iron grate


two cocktail rings
merge on top the bar




Ura




after we finish
belly laughs
wobble the bed springs


wings of geese beat
auguries on the wind


this new appliance
sends a text
when the colors are done


in haikai spirit
a letter from Fukushima


trumpet vine
and Gospel hymns rise
across the sea wall


a bright sting of salt
in the damp morning air







February 2, 2011, edited

bandit / govindajohn


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