Sunday, January 21, 2018

Not Haiku

When I die, I hope crows
eat my eyes, and somehow absorb only
memories that made me laugh
and that they live on
one last time
in the crows’ cackles.

Not Haiku

After I die,
I hope crows
steal my trinkets
for small children to find
and lose.

Sunday, January 14, 2018