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the passing spring
its image unsteady
i offer my own

wind in autumn
full of seedpods
no call from earth
air in my fingers

piping autumn wind
the bell's voice
on the mannequin

the wind curls
shining in my soup bowl
covering the crocus

glimmer of tea water
the trill of the cicadas

orion's belt
of the well's bottom…
cherries in bloom

in spring rain
the mulberry branch
the snail

after a long nap
as it falls, it vanishes
cool spring breeze

spring showers
something stirs
into the parsley

stuttering about
inside your hand print
in secret places

moon in the autumn dawn
the thud of textbooks
and a snoring dog

a finger pointing
the passing shade
an ice cream truck

illuminated by a wildfire

this life
even the monkey seems to want
the snail

amid fog
an unmarked grave
wind cuts my flesh

the woodpecker
a single bamboo shoot
moving its wings

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