Poetry

In an instant
I’m plunged into
the old roaring of words…

dust storms rage through
the city…

The curtain on the edge of my finger flutters
like a dream shaking off sleep…

Walking
one afternoon
on a path that led
into thick bushes
I came upon him,
fully formed…

Watermelon dreams
stain the skin of summer…

In these arms I gather
the loneliness of your dreams
as you curl into my corners
lost in a shapeless geography…

Every day that passes behind the calendar
strikes a different chord in the long chapter of remembrance,
the winter that never became our season,
the kisses that never crossed our lips…

What use is love for those whose hands stink of death?
What meaning does humanity hold for
those laughing through tears?…

By the side of a fallen branch I found my little heart,
covered by a coat of newly fallen leaves…

On the outskirts of an echoing sob
I found you weeping big fat tears…