a cow grazes
on a plinth once reserved
for priests & kings.
Ruins [Senryū]
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on a narrow ridge,
covered with fine dust,
my foot slips. I’m awake!

curb crows
stand in a row.
what’s the sky say?

at water’s edge,
snakes wrestle: writhing, twining,
but slipping the pin.

budding limbs:
vibrant growth unseen from
the city beyond.

sun to flowers,
“now that I have your
attention… shine!”