The sun scorches everything
It breathes on, it breathes in,
Lingering ashes wafting in the air,
Yet I cannot find my sun-seared heart,
...
The flower-of-an-hour was always cruel
And never shown in your everyday smile,
When walking about in the snowfall
You said, “we are for each other, ”
...
I never knew how something fragile
And beautiful
could exhaust itself before me,
Or how even the immaculate have flaws;
...
-an outline of my conversations with Michael
what a waste of a day,
and you change my stupid,
...
The words never uttered on our breath
Created a silence that was deafening to the heart,
The icy halos, casting crowns at our footsteps
When all love has been misled,
...
As I had finished writing poetry with a calligraphy pen, I held it haphazardly over a translucent glass. A tiny driblet of ink sinuously slid off the pen tip and into the liquid. I watched the dropp permeate the water with whirling motions until the uppermost portion of the water was occupied with ink. At that time, a thousand tiny droplets depressed towards the bottom of the glass like anguished souls. The color was now a solid, sullen black....
...
To be added soon.)
Dancing In The Pyre
The sun scorches everything
It breathes on, it breathes in,
Lingering ashes wafting in the air,
Yet I cannot find my sun-seared heart,
Unearth the ash piles where
Remnants of unresolved anger lie,
My suicide of thought and emotion,
Transformed into a figurative thing,
So I quenched my thirst on a star
And dined in the heavens,
In love without conviction or reason,
I sang heartfelt lullabies,
Who taught me how to dream,
The distant sun, the desired sun,
Forevermore I have found you,
I am uncritical and foolish,
So swaddle my smoked heart
Lest I forget my purpose,
Dancing in the pyre
I move in, I move on.
(March 29,2007)