I couldn't get happy with what I was writing so instead I'm posting some haiku/senryu/short poems about childhood. I'm not proud. But honestly, I'm still fucked up over the fact that someone out there found my drafts. I'm okay with sharing to people I've approved to be on my friends list, but these were on paper, these were real and printed and had edits scribbled. What's more, I also lost my class schedule for fall and I'm supposed to register tomorrow morning... Looks like I'm getting up early to make calls...
Forgive me today, poets, I've no idea what to do:
brave heroes leaping
from couch to coffee table:
the floor is lava!
kick those little legs
until you swing so high that you
feel like you might fly
sidewalks become moats
bicycles are great white steeds
nothing is not real.
three children laughing.
underneath hypocrite fists,
one child is crying.
what joy can be found
in huge piles of fallen leaves
and their destruction.
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