Be more gentle
the glue is not yet set
neither child nor man
but something in between
you are as yet unformed
a wondering restless thing
forever rearranging
the shifting sea
which constant breaks
and beats the rocks
with pounding fists
to make them change
they will not shift
be not angry at a world
which moves too slow
and way too fast for me
be more gentle, wait a while
find the shape you want to be

nothing left
to hide
nothing left
to give,

life and love
have stripped
and mined it
all away
from me,

and time
has consumed.
all the
tidbits  of
me that
might at
one time
or another
been yummy
or satisfying,

to her or
them or
whatever.

and still
almost
not by choice
have all
the pieces
in my life
still miraculously
fallen in
together

to this.

I love you.

Two kisses for a golden
lie. Don't manipulate the shelter.
The Moon will take rest in my poems.

Song of sparrow has
died. I am bewildered. From where
I start writing glory of sunrise?

My every nerve trembles
when I gather the dried jasmines,
you dropped saying goodbye.