I too, am a pause


Hanging over pauses
I left language silent
Vanishing like stardust\

A brief vertigo of between
Thought and feeling
A little will of innocence
Running wild like insubstantial
Aesthetics of apparitions neither\

Truly named or published, simply
Verse, left to grow by itself
Secret gardens of untouched clarity\

Forever still in the words between
Messages, in the stanzas
Left clear of actual substance
A voice of alphabets forever drawing
Near, yet ringing from some far off
Distant place, a word-salad\

Of weightless hours of lyrical birth
Transparent for the silence
Of moments empty and sweet\

That could have been filled with anything
Remote and near, poetry dug
Like channels of the fountain of youth
Where circular afternoons prey
In the pretty tributes of eternal mind

The spiritual leftovers of past lives
Spilling over in elusive stars that write
About the light of enormous night
And how theatre became destiny.

Resurrection ritual


I search without finding
I write alone
more in love with the Universe

everyday I am alive
I walk through thought
until my shadow is a darkened garden
I walk though suffering
until I bear the pain of all creatures

empathy is my last sanctuary
I feel without ending
I write alone

I am as a crystal willow
A pine tree of water
A sky of unhurried spring
Clouds reflected in the river
Imminent joy pressed me to the

Sun’s invariable wilderness
I search without finding
I write of the luxury of existence

Her bare nude body of burning and singing
the world is a transparent atom
the splendour of a bird
the brightness of a flower
I reached the end of all reflections

A domain of salt, gold, moons
And forests rain in my imagination
I search without finding

pregnant with all the beauty I have witnessed
I travel along the edges of oceans
I search for an instant alive as a bird
aware as a leaf licked by the wind
in love with the tiger color of autumn.

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Letter to final interpretation


Like our bodies imprint
Not a sign of how we rejoiced
In the seasons of our youth will remain

The sand will straighten itself
The wind will not comb our hair
Time will not sit still for us
Dates will no longer exist
Our soul will be lost in energy


Nature will rebuild and
The world will close behind us
Aware only of its self-centered drama

The languages our heart knew
Will not be sung in any dreams
The faces we once cherished
Will no longer exist, exactly so
None will help me, for I will be dead


Though did I help the world
That gave me learning grounds?
As the centuries drink the amputated

Routines of generations
We even flew a little, in our prime
Had some rare ideas
Experienced ourselves more fully?
We loved with the wings of everything


As far as I’m concerned
It was enough to be
Dismantled so easily by age

Decline was a precise surgeon
The engineer in my genes
Knew of angels before sunrise
Though in the anonymous paths I tread
I only felt a whiteness above covet me

As if I watched myself knowing

Brevity, mortality, impermanence
So aware of each moment slipping
Until I knew the name of divinity
And it was, already time to let go.