stupas point up to the vast blue skies; nothing points back
Blue Sky Stupa Field [Haiku]
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the crape myrtle’s
many symmetries
orders my mind

the butterfly
in the cool morning air
can’t flee foot thunder



I stand before the water's edge. Thwarted, I throw a stone. For I am here and you are there, and I feel all alone. I have no friendly Hanuman to form a viaduct. I gather scraps together to see what I can construct. Maybe I'll make a raft, or some rickety, old footbridge - Anything to reduce the gulf so much as a hopeful smidge.