The Dying Gasp

The dying gasp of school is upon us! Which means, basically, that every class is reaching fever pitch in preparation for exam week. This in the rather mundane excuse for last week's lack of entry. That's okay, though, because I've been far too busy to write as much poetry as I should like. There's a haibun percolating somewhere out of sight that I'd really like to write out; unfortunately, it refuses to congeal into anything concrete. Ah well. Only four more days.
.........
when it doesn't fly away,
I realize the fly
is an ant
..........
post-its
litter my floor
like fallen leaves
..........
bloated moon,
shrouded in fog,
comes and goes
..........
summer snowstorm:
poplar seeds
engulf the world
..........
during the storm,
I hear the sea....
in Oklahoma
..........
the butterfly tries to land on an oil slick
..........