Pete's Poetry

Night, blast, blight, cast
Silver, quiet, quiver, diet…

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You are my every line
my conscious grammar
my pen
my hammer.

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…To find her gone
Blank like the memory
Of my fiction

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White

Posted by in Poems, The East

On a warm twist of winter
At 5:30 in the morning of Korean calm
An early bus slips past the chot noon [first snow]
Sailing down in windless clusters
Like whispers
Wetting windshields…

Haiku for You

Haiku for You

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