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Monday, May 14, 2012

haibun || Sheila E. Murphy


I have traveled via train to be your low priority. I have
wrestled brambles to become your low priority. I have practiced
woodwind rests to seem your low priority. Now it will be winter
everywhere I am your low priority. The shaven birch denotes
your low priority. Skinned trees I have climbed to be your low priority.
Even in sunshine I remain your low priority. The tanned skin
I release by way of habit is your low priority. Do you take this
woman as your low priority. The sun hat keeping out the shade
your low priority. Sea shine, sand shells, salt taste, low priority.
Invincible, your inclination to construct me into your hand crafted
low priority.
 
Asymptote, hand-carved ontology, a field division
 
 
Sheila E. Murphy

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