old stone bridge:
weeds grow in its cracks,
its river ran dry.
Stone Bridge [Haiku]
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tree, wrapped in vines,
shape broken & trunk hidden;
an attempt to blend?

unfurled buds,
not drooped to gravity,
tell Spring’s story.

trunk splits to branches
that stretch to the edge
of oxygen’s crossing.

understory thrives:
light plants & shadow plants
each finds its place.
I cut myself upon the thought of you
And yet I come back to it again and again,
A kind of fury makes me want to draw you out
From the dimness of the present
And set you sharply above me in a wheel of roses.
Then, going obviously to inhale their fragrance,
I touch the blade of you and cling upon it,
And only when the blood runs out across my fingers
Am I at all satisfied.