Chasing the embedded sex of the moon
you torched the sun
by the stares of dead
and turned yourself into a stone
...
It was night’s fury
whipping up hysteria
on specks of flames, dancing in pain.
...
In the tiny truths behind the hidden
words and blood streaked cheeks, you
drink ozone in deep layers. I will count
all my sins and light the candles in a row.
...
Exacerbating,
falling in dust,
searching the dead truths
on pills of abandoned bodies of lies.
...
Do not stare at full moon.
The distance between love and hate
has narrowed.
...
The dome has collapsed.
You walk in fire on the eve of
exhuming yourself, picking up
the pieces of humming life.
...
Casuarina! I miss you a lot.
Why don’t you reclaim this drab century
by your drooping branches,
off from the poetry of water?
...
At that time
I was thinking something else
when you gave me a half-kiss,
my winter naked moon.
...
Disaffection
brings out, the black fever.
Stars will chart the inky path.
...
Stunning yourself,
after setting ablaze,
circumbulating the tied down god in center,
you start a death dance
...