Le paradis n'est pas artificiel …

November 04, 2006

Ten Senryu

Real life encoded 5-7-5 into Twitter.

the smell of Murphy's
oil soap and lingering jam
black coffee and toast

crumbs and ideas
scattered so generously —
a meeting with friends

home with myriad
berries, greens and nightshade things
from the farm market

mailing manuscripts
into the void! emboldened
by scotch and coffee

coming in with a
kilo of oranges and a
sixer of red stripe

sweating, aching, blind
and shaking — that's how I know
I'm really writing

a house of cards is
hard to breath in, no matter
which way you stack them

writing and laughing
at adverts on NPR
for "Rank Choice Voting"

I like buying old
men's hats — the smell of their bands
keeps me mettlesome

sitting at my desk
in a surprising darkness
— summer's come and gone

Posted by Delire at November 4, 2006 05:19 PM
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