You owe me nothing.
Renegade, my jewels were stolen.
Incredible, the squirrel goes on fast.

Wounded by words, you
were becoming daisy. Magic, magic
to fill in the empty mind.

An unique kiss still haunts.
An anniversary present to stitch the veins.
No blood moved after the accident.

It was absence of truth.
The silent pain writes a name in
the invisible book for a monograph.

Draw my old blood.
You want more water. Hydrangeas
are thirsty. Want to drink from your hands.

You ask pure love.
A Sleeveless torso was utterly homeless.
Prayers have gone god free.

Longing, you carry the water
in cupped hands. A candle wants
to drink the tenderness.

My loss has become a
big asset. I am empty hands now
There is no burden of sins.

Will you count your fingers.
They were always crooked like question-
marks for which I have no answer.

Drop the pen and write
with your blood. Put on hold the heiress
of the moon. Glare shows some artifice.

The winter pain brings
false wounds hurled by velvety words
to engage the fake happiness.

Why do you need a mirror
to make the world beautiful by reflection
of a lake and alligators?

You were enough not less.
I am going to call ancestors for a trial.
before light. Where the god lives?

In the loneliness you
find your goddess in the baby of
unknown mother bringing milk of love.

The silence was my study.
I read myself in darkness and will find
something written on walls by spirits.

This was not the poverty of
experience, finding difference between
humans and venomous snakes.

My remit was to catch
the killers. Mosquitoes resigned.
A new race picked up the thread.

You wanted a painless end.
A happy journey in watercolors.
to meet all gods for an answer.

You were searching yourself
in my poems, after the river bled of
tears. I was painting the desert.

The pyramid of love was rising
for justice to reach the moon without stairs.
The duality of pain exists from you to me.

Why does a palm tree stand
at the door of my house. To wait for
the fading glory of the moon?