you would know that finality is a placewhere everything is done once.You would know the territory of closingand bolting a door.You would know and reca..
I close here. In the vicinity of trees.In the whistling alleyways of the wind, whereall the things you've given me sway like wind chimes.Only your tho..
Today is not cinco de mayo. Or a momentous day of liberty.It is not a day where the leaves might congress.It is not a day out of a dream.Today is the ..
There comes a time when I floatthrough my own nameless river,sometimes with a taste of salt,sometimes with a touch of kohl,(I call yours).where a stor..
Sometimes i visit mypoems of old. My family of words.They live in the realm of forgetting.As I see them they have aged withwrinkled skins and hollowe..
Call me reminiscent tonight.Call me butter and bread.Call me erupt, meadow.Call me anything tonight.In this discordant night.I can become anything you..
Perhaps I write to you.Perhaps to your shadow.Maybe to all the brittle thingsthat accumulatebetween you and me.To the museum ofblurs and fogs.To the m..
Perhaps there's still some poetry left,somewhere,even when there are no beginningsand no ends. Living in some alleyways beyond blur,like the nomad san..
I offer nothing.Neither the night nor bread.Not a window or a tree.Not even the comfort of poetry.To us we are a seed.Buried deep into memories.where ..