Sunday, July 6, 2014

re-cycled Tanka

Tanka

alone
in a city
of unknowns
the poet finds
a new door, every hour


'this winter breeze
now scorches me
with hunger':
a lone sparrow
speaking to itself


he joined
a train of clouds:
'My avian heart,
how do i know
where the end of route is?'

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