Wonderful is not so much
The mausoleum's chisel cut beauty
As the beauty of the love
Arrested in its architecture-
...
With the freedom of an outlaw,
bees to whom earth
is but a benevolent garden
and what matters
...
Canonised when dead, cannonaded when in life,
Lofty your thoughts that savour of content
But loftier the craftmanship
More congruent in symmetry
...
What lures everyone's eyes
without vision
makes them dream to be me,
is but my image at sale, a star
...
The used rags of my ancestors,
do not make me, me.where's
the adolescent I saw
yesterday? has it drowned in you
...
When the wind that sifts dust
becomes erratic
the earth becomes
like someone's kite-
...
What grows on its own within my breast
that in truth's alone real-
the quintessence of sweetness,
of which man has its human counterpart
...
My passage from the dream to the waking dream
slows towards home
to winter in the wharf of flesh
which breathes with people
...
How hard is it to be
in an olive garlanded grove
hinging with dove cots, cooing
under a sensual night's cover
...