Tuesday, June 17, 2008


Go nowhere, I will;
from this deep, dreary haze;
for this downpour'll cover up
these streets (in vain).

Like I've told the sparrows
to come again;
to lay flakes
upon my wintry stand;
to fly by, when the wind is low
downhill; as the maples do everytime.

And like I've told them to come again;
to peck around my garden,
stony cloister, frozen.
And in vain.

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