Monocarpic
He shares little in group but talks a bit over burnt eggs and strong coffee. Mirages are real. Metal burns in the desert sun. Sometimes, the wind is a ghost haunting you.
He calls me by his dead buddy's name and leaves on a Tuesday while the wind swirls around our narthex. I don't find an obituary and wonder if my mind conjured him like a child's imaginary friend.
corpse flower I mark an unmarked grave
~
Colleen M. Farrelly is a mathematician and haibun poet who's been exploring the universe through mathematics and physics since childhood. She's an amalgam of mystic Jewish/Catholic traditions and mathematician-philosophers like Blaise Pascal, with a deep appreciation for meditation and what she learned about public health and spiritual health from South African village shamans in the mid-2000s.
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