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Haiku 12
Music from the church
at this distance, I will hear
only blended souls.
What would Gang of Four
say about this construction
between me and freeze?
Against unhappiness
paprika on potato
contends to the taste.
An intimate act
summoning optimism
that I’ll see the moon.
Not so much the wind
as the shutter cord’s tapping,
the ebb of sirens.
Mill that fine, grinders!