tanka/tanshi (Takuboku style)

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