Sapphire's lyre styles plucked eyebrows bow lips and legs whose lives are lonely too my last nerve's lucid music sure chewed up the juicy fruit you must don't like my peaches there's some left on the tree you've had my thrills a reefer a tub of gin don't mess with me I'm evil I'm in your sin clipped bird
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From Tanka Diary
The botanical garden is just as I remember,
although it is certain that everything
has changed since my last visit.
How many hilarious questions these fuzzy
fiddleheads are inquiring of spring
will be answered as green ferns unfurl?
Walking the path, I stop to pick up
bleached bark from a tree, curled into
a scroll of ancient wisdom I am unable to read.
Even in my dreams I’m hiking
these mountain trails expecting to find a rock
that nature has shaped to remind me of a heart.