On the top of the world I in the poet”s tower up up there in the gray sky letting my thought out singing in full voice it is all rock and roll it is all in those blades of grass on the Bryant Park lawn where Nikola Tesla fed his beloved white dove she then
The train moves on from the Penn station it takes me to Princeton over and over again Ivy league that is the plan what is the plan love love is the plan l knew three American Poet Laureates personally two of them loved me but it is not the grand plan I will write one
I am a part of nature I am a small part, hiding from winter frost in your leeward I am excited in your light snowfall But the snow storm freezes my cheeks up I am a part of nature I am a part, in love with your blue sky I am a drifter on your
I am Happy To Be Part of Nature Read More »
When I got back home, my apartment sighed, a draught-horse straining at the weight. The room I had abandoned was left ajar like an unbuttoned shirt, a breathing slightly open, a breathing long obstructed. The balcony hung over us like a long-legged morning full of turning iron cranes. I tried to gnaw through the gray
When you put a wild cat out the door skyscrapers will be waiting for you. They veil their eyes. The doors are just heavy enough to shut you in. When the meadow is being torn open, white milk drops over the earth’s feet. What can you understand from utterly other worlds other than destruction? Smile
They told me to be the reverse side of fabric let your color be pale and the patterns vague the reverse side of fabric is also the reverse of life be a dead person, but they should not see your red they said so but I did not pay attention, I was a rigid
THE POEM OF THE TAILOR Read More »
Your shadow passes by every morning through my door Every morning I got shut from one part of me My sea of longing boils over Its sails are closed down My renewed hope drops its flower all of a sudden I feel helpless… I imprisoned your voice in my chamber My hands grasp you
MY SEA OF LONGING BOILS OVER Read More »
My childhood, a bird on trial; it landed on my twig suddenly Cornel trees were decorated in red, a mulberry caldron was set Where are my slippers made out of cherry laurel leaves Maybe they are in my hand, in my pocket or lost by chance I walked barefooted on the mossy gutters
AN ODE TO MY CHILDHOOD Read More »
They say, if a woman in love would have her hands use as a shield by the two sides of her mouth and whisper wholeheartedly the name of her lover three times, then that man would be startled and shaken. He would blush, get an expected ache in his nose, and a sense of numbness
Darkness filling the body of the night Shall we make an agreement with you, I say Are you the real darkness, or am I an Arab? Which of us has the lead, I wonder Should freedom be out of the color of canvas And should we look through our naked heart for instance Should
Shall We Sow Love in Eternity Read More »
