*Tanka XXVII*
“What’s love,” sewn sage quizzed,
cobbled by pain and wit’s rill.
“Is it hopping heart
thrilled by trained rhythm and tarred trance,
or plagued passion longing clipped?”
’20:09:15:19:29
Note: Of lanky love.
ii) Wrote this while walking on a bridge.
Ancestral Trail 