2013年03月20日

Haiku : Five Verses In Seven Days, the 48th. week vol. 1

Like a butterfly, putting his arms down, on his feet dancing.
In Tokyo we cannot find Sora, the sky called in Japanese, Sid had stayed in New York City.
The corpse to destruct and abandon, finally for forgetting to drain blood from, at all.
Of her tip, of her toe, of her fore, a nail of the hawk. Or, of her tip, of her toe, of her fore, a dried sweet pepper is there.
Raising the roof at a party, drinking and eating, the stomach is full, so we cannot compose haiku.

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