collection of past tanka

I pick myself up
in the midst of foreign masks
I disappear
the past echoing in my tracks
as I reach runaway lane


-

I miss your presence
You, who never existed
just an idea
born in my wandering thoughts
in search of a missing rhyme

-

I am a blank page
not yet thoughtfully written
and yet, I'm nothing
but a shredded vintage piece
adorned with unread scribbles