useless stuff

Yakushima mountain

this pure water

like sweet wine

the closest to

the touch of your lips

sakura

Adorned with wires

and old grey towers

sakura

petal after petal

a tree paints itself

on the tarmac

shushushushu

the sound of my toothbrush

morning gatha

Moon faced Buddha, sun faced Buddha

plum blossoms

all along

Don't wave your fan too much

written poems may

fly away

Your flutter wakes me up

and you flicker away

Moth