For all her life
She’s built
Castles herself:
Stone, wood,
Sand, she lived
To tear it down
And again left;
Now’s crystal
she can only
break it down
To pieces by pieces
To destroy the images
Haunting, gripping
To erase the traces
Of nightmares when
She wakes up again.
They called it,
“Yggdrasil”
a noble tree
holding the universe
with three roots
for three races-
Death’s souls,
Frost-giants’ land,
and humans’ world-
If you saw the tree
even in your dream,
you should’ve fought
the dragon gnawing
the roots within
Ere they got rotten.
There’s a class difference
In the kinds of racket
Whether you believe it or not.
The tennis racket’s patrician
The badminton racket’s plebeian
But no matter what they are
Their work is hard labor
Hitting, hit, swooshing, swooshed
All for the excitement of the spirits.
Impressionist 
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