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swallow’s face the deep orange of autumn

the half moon hides children seeking her dark

the laughter of kids lit by the half moon

you can hear them autumn winds plotting in the shadows

before you wake night winds raise the cold from depths

i prefer the namelessness of bodies

popping fish crackers and trying to read your lips

the rain at dusk fills our head with strange thoughts

when it is time to go i hope it rains

was that a haiku a rap on the knuckles by basho