Inefficient

Every morning, when I wake again under the pall of the sky, I feel that for me it is New Year’s Day. That’s why I hate these New Year’s t...

Those Winter Sundays Sundays too my father got up early and put his clothes on in the blueblack cold, then with cracked hands that ached fr...

The evening breezes-- The water splashes against A blue heron's shins. -- Yosa Buson (1716-1783), from The Classic Tradition of H...

Audible and Inaudible A sudden, unexpected movement; his hand clutched the wound to stop the bleeding, though we had not heard the gunbu...

None of the books have time To say how selfless feels, They make it sound a superior way Of getting what you want. It isn't at all. ...