tanka/tanshi (Takuboku style)

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two days into my forty-third chapter...
embracing the way 
my life doesn't make sense

each unpolished mirror 
propped up against the wall 
some days i avoid staring at me

behind black-out curtains 
alone with my thoughts 
feeling Takuboku´s spirit

knowing i should be asleep 
all these untouched books
clutter up my space

no haiga accompanies 
any of the senryu i write ---
stale beer is a thing

up and down shadowed streets
men with painted faces
and the smell of desperation 

uninhibited...
the coy ways these words 
dance into an oblong tanka 

quiet morning...
my child questions 
manman Earth about her health 

Ryokan´s tanka 
read while enjoying the taste
of too-sweet navel oranges

going to bed
a Sudanese lullaby plays 
in the background in my dreams 

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