You might be a pig,
But if you're a flying pig,
The sky's your limit.

I put an ad that I am sad,
Somebody called, we talked and met,
And now both of us are sad.

there is one haiku,
written as 5-7-5,
that answers all asks.

they congregate
close to each other

on the top of
a building

citizens or
soldiers

black winged birds
pulled together

by a force I
don’t understand

they stay there
all night

whispering to
each other

in their huddle

and

in the morning
I wake to their

loud conversations
and watch them go

their separate ways
not knowing if

they settled anything

Rain befalls the afternoon like a heavy blanket
A blanket under which I rest
Legs crossed and crossed and crossed
Neck curved as a comma,
The smallest body you have seen

Nothing is mine
My arms, my hands, my head
The water that falls
Lands on nothing that belongs

Nothing is ours
The sky, the ground, the air
Skin becomes wet
Skin and water with no owner

Break my bones;
cut my throat.
Pull me open,
learn the ropes.

Breath me in;
taste the fear.
Shank my skin;
stand and cheer.

Kick my head;
let me bleed.
Unbolt my veins;
enjoy the read.

Gouge my eyes;
punch my face.
Wrap me up
in your embrace.

your name is
forbidden in
my mouth
or in my heart
because when
i think about
you;

i'll cry a little more,
hurt a little stronger
love a little softer
because you no longer
make me feel sober

i'm drunk on the
memory of you

i am a simple gal
fascinated by nature’s ‘mundane’
toss me in a patch of green
nothing but a mile of trees
and ill spend hours lost
staring at the bark