gathering haiku
storm clouds spitting three line rain
this is not the first
this is not the next
figure in statue garden
but one another
Nor is this one next
In a series of poems
Closer to loose group
you might stand right here
or here if this feels better
only you decide
but now look around
this may be the true First One
Somehow I doubt it
Certain so was I
Bottom to upwardly read
I was so certain
try to find handle
exit door painted on wall
will you write me out
if out ever was
how did you get there just now
and where are we now
this is not the last
verse in some linked poetry
all I have to say
this might be the last
you hear from me forever
are you listening
maybe this goes first
rearranged by your own mind
free to move about
This might be middle
surrounded on every side
by dreams of haiku
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem