Come, See The True Flowers Of This

Every Moment Of Life Is The Last, Every Poem Is A Death Poem.

O Cricket From Your Cherry Cry No One Would Ever Guess How Quickly You Must Die.

Plunge Deep Enough In Order To See Something That Is Hidden And Glimmering.

From All These Trees, In The Salads, The Soup, Everywhere, Cherry Blossoms Fall.

Now The Swinging Bridge Is Quieted With Creepers ... Like Our Tendrilled Life.