81/365 - 85/365

Almost prepared to leave the page blank. I’m in that sort of mood. A little bitter, frustrated. Pointless. My sense of fulfillment fled quickly this year. All it takes is one rejection in the mail—and the evening settles into bitterness.

Cast off satellites
diving, circling at random;
moths orbit street lights.

Not fond of the haiku tonight; the event spiraled out of this afternoon, so I concentrate on preserving the actuality of the event, rather than use strong creative phrasing. But see—I over criticize all my words anymore. Question all statements on the page.

Above the doorway,
outside between two bricks, bees
submerge with green leaves.

To counter silence,
in the night I imagine
steady streams of rain.

A flock of sparrows
scare off a helicopter,
arching cross summer.

After ten o’clock.
The neighborhood settles down
outside out window.


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