Bare-foot I go near
tomorrow. So much more than love,
poem in a poem trembles.
Like, aspen the goddess
tree, sharing the same root quivers.
There was no storm.
Setting aside the triviality
of daily life, I drag open the funeral
mask to see the mercury planet.
When my hand strokes
a flame, the white ash will kiss
me. Were you savior of darkness?
Why low morale? Moon
will never say he was supermacic.
Icons were climbing down the trees.
The other side of the
pain was an evening song. Go Greek.
Life's struggles have no ending.
Vicious, we are going farther
from each other to sensationalize
the sting of a rare kiss.
An algorithm makes a
new pattern to live. When you
come I like walking moss.
The white ash gives
birth to who you are. There was
only one book which broke the centuries.
The pain waits for ever.
Nothing to ask, nothing to give.
You make a house of glass to be transparent.
The sculptor sexualizes
the stones by carving a beauty of
ancient human walking undressed on land.
A truth be unwrapped?
The stigma will not allow the flies
to sit. The fruits will never come.
A running poem was
condemned to die. I will not change
the route. You know the art of breathing last.
Uneasy, you never returned
for confession. The fear eats away
like a virus. You belonged to me.
No strings. We are tied
by sacred words, like swans. We
are intertwined by necks to stay alive.
Amphibious. My pain
wants to go into exile. My home
was becoming a museum.
A devil lives in every
one, brandishing a knife. The
rose flowers are hurled on the dead
Unassuming you dig
in heels; Why does the moon stare
at you, when you shut your eyes.
Where the ocean ends,
mirage begins. I was drinking the
sun. Who will bring water?
Hypocrisy wears grass.
Clouds come and go and there was
no rain of hope and love.
Tulips zoom. I don't want
the beauty to distract me from
the river of blood to dry.