In memory of Hiroshima

A Thousand Lights

taking my hand, you say
Basho lived here. we climb until
the pagoda fades
and distant islands twinkle
like dimples in the sea

The Pier

after oysters, we kiss
drawn like hungry squids
to a distant light

The Dome

nothing’s left, only tatters
a shell that suggests
yesterday’s mundane matters

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About Fiat Lux

I write, therefore I am
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