|
Road running straight ahead
|
|
|
|
Heaven / doesn't kill me
|
|
|
|
Nothing left of the house
|
|
|
|
Dawn Cherries
|
|
|
|
Who says my poems are poems?
|
|
|
|
How admirable — the fine gentleman
|
|
|
|
Frail, frail, lone-growing bamboo
|
|
|
|
Though I know in time
|
|
|
|
Some, childless when they left
|
|
|
|
I found lodging
|
|
|