7/365

.
Removed from his life,
he points a gun at the sun.
Shoots blindly. Once. Twice.



This exists as the one time I utilized a fictional situation in these haiku-poems; from the highway the day's heat submerged the landscape in a burning liquid. Everything seemed on the edge of a great apocalyptical resolution, or at least a random personal tragedy.

Stuck in traffic, on the side of the road a few people wandered. Apparently aimless. Homeless. Bitter phrases emerged in my head, such as:
     ruptured life

     eroded life
     wage war on self
     shell of a failing body

The "he" in the above haiku exists as a component of many figures. A conglomeration of different forms from memory.

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