Imitating the waves,
I try to end the attachment
touching the shores,
then moving away.
...
He was not ready
for a stash of negligees
put up by moon, on the trees.
...
When I was arranging daffodils
you send in tanks.
The sky was overcast.
...
It was the hiatus
that underlying silence
of which I was hearing the voices.
...
Aura begins from tongue
to spit fire and frozen rain
in the epileptic rage of insanity.
...
Are you genuine, I ask?
Your face, a stone wall,
I had been bruising my psyche against it.
I have no strength to bury myself alive,
...
Symbols are true, because they are there.
Your solemn ache
proud of failure
traces a circle.
...
To become or not to become a renegade,
or to die or not to die for a semi-god?
These were some of the questions
thrown at an incomplete script.
...
Anxiety was touching the mime
I cannot hold a reality.
We were playing with each other.
...
You were sitting on a honeycomb
I wanted a life
without stink or stain.
Intently staring at every celebration
...