Twenty Five Haiku
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A hundred red fire ants scouring, scouring the white peony
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Fallen plum blossoms return to the branch, you sleep, then
harden again
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Cuttlefish in my palm stiffens with rigor mortis, boy toys can't
love
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Neighbor's barn: grass mat, crickets, Blue Boy, trowel handle,
dress soaked in mud
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Iron-headed mace; double-studded halberd slice into emptiness
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