Am I so blind that I could not detect the hands of those that reach to cut my throat? The soft whispers of planning architects to build gallows to hang me as they gloat. I’ll pluck the strings on every subtle plot to cut their strands, like the Gordian knot. I’ll play the part of…

Morning Haiku – 1

The yellow house sleeps In summer delay so deep When crickets alarm. Inspired by the Song La Maison Jaune, by KlĂ´ Pelgag.