Saturday, August 15, 2015. The tips of the evergreens,. The wind comes in gusts through the window -. Tousling my hair as my grandfather did. My coffee has grown cold,. But not so cold as their dead. In my worn reading chair,. There is still sleep lingering in my bones,. Which is to say life. My cold coffee now bitter - like the character. Counting gunshot wounds instead of cadavers. As if each shot were a separate death,.

A haiku is not a poem, it is not literature; it is a hand becoming, a door half-opened, a mirror wiped clean. , Translations and commentary by Reginald H. Vineri, 7 august 2015. Marți, 4 august 2015.

Forgot Password or Username? Deviant for 4 Months. This is the place where you can personalize your profile! By moving, adding and personalizing widgets.

Aici veti gasi retete pe care sa le savurati alaturi de cei dragi si care sa va faca zilele mai frumoase! Va multumesc pentru vizita! 169; Retetele şi pozele de pe acest site sunt proprietatea autorului şi nu pot fi folosite, reproduse integral sau parţial, redistribuite sau modificate fără permisiunea acestuia! Dacă îmi dau acordul, este necesar să fie citată sursa cu link şi numele meu.