CHRIS GORDON haiku ’96 part two

February 26, 2016 § Leave a comment

 

the bus grows somewhat quiet I ring the bell

 

greeting a stranger in the smell of baked chicken

 

lonely for ideas I have never had

 

ottery tickets

 

while you were sleeping the bees began dying

 

I blow smoke into the opening of the phone bill

 

geese nibble the dark stuff we have our separate rooms

 

 

 

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