Going Home: Keats – Episode 4
April 19th Breakfast. Animals. Piano. The problem, I suppose, is that I don’t know most of the music I found. Not by name, anyway. Playing it, aware that my sight … Continue reading
Three Haiku
Nostalgia A box of photos. The debris of simpler times. Wonderful and sad. Lament Time still gives no clues As to how you changed the trees From oak to … Continue reading
My Houseplants Hate Me
No eyes to see you. No hands to reach for your aid. I feel the disdain Growing in you; begrudging even the smallest of drops.
“Summer”
Crisp air Less definite now those brittle breaths have passed for another year summer air its humid mass presses down on limbs unwanted no movement until autumn
Haiku 16: Coffee
Sing me dark songs with A voice of ash and heaven. Wake me from slumber
Tanka 2
Breathing in crisp must The scents that herald winter. Understanding that written on each golden page, Shining words of renewal.
Will Vigar 
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