if you can find a letter, put it on the scream of a no-name pain would the smoke be seen after the fire while leaving away towards the sky the wounded houses do moan the rooms filled with fear a breath, the one not taken and given it is much too tight to put
THE ROOMS FILLED WITH FEAR Read More »
Shortly before a baker made A ferment for abundance Now the bread is more malleable And our dinner tables are peaceful. A carpenter measured the timber In his hand with a rose letter The doors of the all houses Will be open to affectionateness. A tailor configured his scissors According to a tolerance
THE BALLAD OF LABOR Read More »
I am the tree of life, bereft of birds My leaves are rusted copper The death I once seduced Has been on my trail since the day I was born It won’t let me be Let me bury my face In the river of morning My feet catch on the mountains If I
I am stuck in those memories The time with you, the years I am stuck in our memories In an instantaneous look in the pupil of your eye In the hole of your lip’s curling The way you scatter your hair in the air The way you left me inconsiderately and slowly In your rebelling
The small daughter of Oceanus Burying her female holes on her face Into the wine flowing from the spectacular Dionysus’ fountain… … How did she paint the world? With a maroon colored past Who covered who then? The back wound was in the open… … Was time always like that? Moldy mouth of the clamor
As the evening sun was setting My hands feeling cold, chilly feeling at my heart I am lonely Like a poppy Blooming in the countryside all alone I am lonely Like love me love me not Something searched in daisies Always talking about poetry If you think that a door was shut
AS ALREADY TIME IS AT A STANDSTILL Read More »
here, in the history of this love i am like a sunken ship do not wait for me to surface, – go find solace in the rain, in journeys scrape the sediment of me from your prophecy time was absolute in our sleep while distances were our shores of delusion the season that spilled
I recognized you by seeing the scar on your forehead we must have met in an old coastal town you may remember for sure, I am the sunset with the eyelashes made out of salt the rotten seaweed smell on my hands the abandoner southwester in my hair make up the sands of the
I am coming together in the sediment of the water scratching your face like the image and tense blooming there the way a died soil comes into flower I watch the dissolution in the melody of the wait I keep quiet so nicely in the compassionate palms of the day by becoming clogged through
I saw the spring increasing your haste in between the warmth of the carnation and the air of the rose we used to be at no cost. in the visibility range of the plumb branches we shared acidic rains as every death is being caught red-handed so I am that much hurt democracy with
