Dragging wing -- who knew the music of love is the sound of scraping feathers. Makes me think of jagged line breaks in a poem. Or the tips of an artichoke. Ouch.
haiku (and not your usual 5-7-5)
Monday, March 19, 2018
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a teepee with its top bisected, drifting far ahead of winter, she takes the biscuits seriously, no chance of honey, no backward glance
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