:
sit here in open window evening silence
my watch sits on my desk beside me
i rest my head on my left palm and
pause to think and not think and
somewhere in this moment
i hear time pass
:
.
.
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................................................................................................................. consider this like a big stack of all my words and haiku that i've left strewn about--- scribbled all over paper napkins, my moleskine notebooks, post-its, twitter, texts, emails, my head, my desk, cafes, papers at the bottom of my purse, my walks-- things tripped over picked up, dropped-- and picked up and held on to along the way--- x c
my dad thinks i write
"yakitori" poetry
{he's an engineer}
.
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