Being an Invisible Virgin


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Xiao Wei, in the hours of our brief obstacles

Can you remember the smell of roses?

I have too many fragments of beauty

In my soul, I’m light as a feather


Without attachment, I dream of you today

I crave the brilliance of an embattled lifetime

The suffering of sleeping alone

And finding pause and dear companions


In the shallow night of superficial years

Xiao Wei, you have no idea ~

How much and love for the sun, you have brought me

I must lead an empty life to say it is so


But coming from heaven, I beg the universe

At times for little gestures, tiny signs

That I too have a place in existence

Xiao Wei, the giver of plenitude


I am a vessel as if filled by your water

Your tears, your sweat, your mind’s blood is my own

I inherit you by nearness to you

I mirror your kindness by being familiar to you


I love what you love by proximity

I ache what you ache for by shared identity

I am nothing and nobody without that

Xiao Wei, there are no friends that last forever


At least not for me, so as I am assaulted by

A glimpse into forever, I pause at the spring

At the fountain of you, at the purity

At the gestures of my lost youth


Xiao Wei, it does not matter who I loved or what I did

But did I rejoice in what was given?

Was I grateful for my innocence virginity

For the gifts of my character, that to others


Were a vice, my gifts of royalty that to others

Went invisible, farewell my friend

These times pass and go, but I linger in the middle

In the love of your imagined nearness

Like a broken hearted ghost.




I am the circumstance


My hands? They are
On the lips of the wind
My eyes? They are
With the gorgeous sun
That knows no sets or rise

Only the love shared
From the perspective of a centre
My heart? It’s born every day
New, like silver clouds
Dispersing over here or there

What am I? I am not this
Not that, not actually a self
I am the minds of all free beings
My lungs? They inhale morning
And nightfall, with the weight

Of birds and flight and credible
Dreaming, in this architecture
Of sound, what is life?
It’s the music that invented movement
Between footsteps of evolution

My love? It’s the seasons that
Never dies, only renews
What more could I say?

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Post Haikus and Poems Given

Poems were given
Like wine from the Universe
When all we had to
Drink was water
All we had were empty words

Now I raise
A dead butterfly
With a smile
Without make-up
It will fly differently

A poem is an autobiography
A selection of subconscious
Lines, given as the world
Sinks in made-up news
Hang on, it will leave you

Alone in the sun
That’s art, it has no eyes
But listens everywhere
Poems were given
Like salt at the banquet table

When all we had to
Dine on, was the
Quiet desperation of our lives.

The Sunne shines of Women



I’ve had love enough
For songs and sonets
And maps to discover

The face of this world
I dreame of thee
Like I champion women
Fought for them, stood
By them, though


Better hemisphere I would
Discover, love so alike
In each face finds beauty

And in every heart finds
A good part of goodness
All strange wonders befall
Thee, when women are near
And last, till you write your


Letters, a woman’s constancy
Can gain you your portion
Of wealth, and true wealth

Is albeit, emotional, social
Like older clothes, worn best
And vertues in their splendid attire
Given by those who know us best
Women, who are braver


Than the spring, with courtesy
For all manners of wars
Of the market, and in the face of
Disease, calamity, bankruptcy.

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