Think Anew, Act Anew

observations and opinion

How many seven a.m.’s


Living in the space
Between night and day, the bright
Blue line in the sky

Caught, the pincers of
Morning hold fast, dragging me
Into garish day

They tell me my dread
Is an absence of sugar
A surfeit of spice

My mourning just math
Chalked out on the wall, functions and
Forms, painting a worm

Draining the veins of
All mortal hope, splicing the
Bits of light to make

A picture I will
Not see. Polaroids spilled on
A white tabletop

How many seven
a.m.’s will fall upon
me, before I am free

How many times will
The sun burn a hole through my
Dreams, before there is peace

There’s a coffee bean
With your courage, blooming blue
Petals from her stalk

Swallow her whole, let
The garden erupt in the
Hollow of your gut

Bend the iron bar
Of dawn’s cage to your will, in
The shape of your eye


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This entry was posted on March 4, 2017 by in haiku too.
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