The look in a child's eye,
Can make any trial in this life,
Smile.

At the crossroads
I made a deal with her
That If she saved me
I would give my life to her daily
She would become my prescription pills
As the deal was sealed
Taming my pain
As others were slain
In the sacrifice of her name
Poetic justice she exclaimed
She was beauty
A living symphony  
And I plague with devotion
To show I'm faithful and capable
I don't stop until my fingers bleed
She doesn't need anyone else but me
Writing scriptures
Until she had her fill
A slave to the pages
To satisfy her nonexistent cravings
I'd scribe to her till my dying days
Without her I'd go insane
She's all I have left
Poetry

In storms
she is your anchor
In blindness
she is your sight
In sadness
she is your laughter
In darkness
she is your light
In weakness
she is your strength
In nightmares
she is your dream
In kindness
she is your weakness
At night time
she hears your screams
In low times
she is the mountain
In dry times
she is the stream
At all times
she is the rock
Never pretending to be
anything else
than what she appears
to be

LEAVES of poplars pick Japanese prints against the west.
Moon sand on the canal doubles the changing pictures.
      The moon's good-by ends pictures.
The west is empty. All else is empty. No moon-talk at all now.
      Only dark listening to dark.

I wish you would take my hand
and walk away with me.
Conversations may float
from autumn branches
or we may find
that silence is sweeter.
There are wildflowers somewhere

   -waiting-
to wave in the wind.

There is a rock
high on the hill
where distant drums
still pray.

I want to take you there.

Polychromatic lovers-
I open a window,
Open wide toward radiance
That descends into the primitive
Depths of a fiery spirit,
There upon a mural splendid
I did see like into dreams
With incomprehensible clarity....
Windows like lights reflecting moons
And daily the gaze fills the abyss
Open wide toward uncertainty
And hallucinating destinies,
Window, open window,
Crystalline glass of the soul.