haibun || Sheila E. Murphy

Spaces between saplings, and the flow-through of thin butterflies.
A respite dawns on place, insomnia the color charcoal, holds.
As if an invocation, practice rooms release the wrinkled versions
of etudes as preface to dry sun. The nerves do what they must,
connect with other nerves within muscular homesteads. How to walk
is music of intention. Poured across each tangible, beyond imagined
likeness. A numbered print to go.
 
Place, restored granule by granule, imparting gradually a whole
 
Sheila E. Murphy