She’s moving back, two
thousand-mile-wide break in their
nine months together.
Long distance
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She’s moving back, two
thousand-mile-wide break in their
nine months together.
A sink hole opens
in a once serene landscape
and cannot be filled.
The man who fell to
earth left us too soon, stardust
in Major Tom’s wake.
Dandelion seed
responsibilities float
away on each breath
Summer is golden
butterscotch, January
skim milk, thin weak pale.
Forgotten summer
umbrella aged by winter’s
wig of heavy snow.
I quit my job to
work on my haiku blog. Chance
of millions, slim / none.
Drops by at four, raids
the fridge, toasts unhappy hour
to his firing squad.
Once her nest, now a
museum to her old self.
Home is elsewhere.