Five Haibun from A Hawk into Everywhere
Contraflow
Sun’s burning an end to the day, a sudden stop to rain and grey. Closure is a car driving the wrong way through life: I feel more lost as time goes on, desire simpler, more mindless pleasures. It’s difficult to know when this detour might end, or how far I am from where I belong; where I might want to be. Marks and traces of everyday passage have been removed. I have no road maps, have dislocated my centre of gravity. My journey makes no sense to others; a wronghanded reflection, I head back home to discover forgotten details.
Inventories of the nearly-possible; of memory and forgetting
Page(s) 31
magazine list
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