Come, Butterfly It's Late- We've Miles To

For This Lovely Bowl Let Us Arrange These Flowers Since There Is No Rice.

Not To Think Of Yourself / As Someone Who Did Not Count -- / Festival Of The Souls.

How Much I Desire! Inside My Little Satchel, The Moon, And Flowers

The Haiku That Reveals Seventy To Eighty Percent Of Its Subject Is Good. Those That Reveal Fifty To Sixty Percent, We Never Tire Of.

This Autumn- Why Am I Growing Old? Bird Disappearing Among Clouds.