Welcome to the land
Beyond the coastline of the sea
Where we read poetry
Under the light
Of the moon.

Welcome to the world
Where as far as god’s decree
Words are written
Just for flowers
To bloom.

In this inky place
It’s found
All that’s written
Has no place to die,

And as the blotches
Fill the page
We find there’s
No time to cry.

And so we read,
And read,
And read,
Until we fail to see.

All just to write,
And write,
And write,
Until we cease to be.

her face looked at me
from all sides and corners
of the writing paper
gentle as a ghost's reminder
I heard a subtle whisper say
There are no more
beautiful and clever things

And like the night
when the sky fades
I am ripped into my own desolation
and stirred into the agony
And as i see your face in everything
It's the most beautiful and clever thing

Cows that get lost without a trace In dense forests, Among sprawling leaves, between green trees, Where there seems to be no end, and if it ends, another identical forest begins...
The fruitless search has its own result
An attempt.
I don't know these feelings, for I haven't lost anything I wonder if perhaps I've lost Something important
I try to remember But in vain,
Nothing like that has happened.
Farmers who lose cows, Talk to other farmers About how they lost, Simply put, money.
"I tried but couldn't find it," they say, While extinguishing tobacco in an oddly deformed shape.

I wandered lonely as a rose by Autumn's gate
as I lay there in still repose, petals strewn      
I fell apart like dessert moon;
The scent that once perfumed my reign
were mellowed by September's rain
I drifted distant in the woods.
All my husks fell to the soil
each petal dried right where it stood    
No gardener's hand of hue embroiled
that filament that quivered slow  
like dying embers of nights glow
Shambled, windblown as the wind
beneath the last of summer's ray
regretfully I did rescind
As summer lost her fired splay
I wandered,
Lost and alone like a rose,
until the end of summer froze.