Misc. Poems
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The boxed up room, a prison in my chest
No windows to the east, no sunsets to the west... -
My pen is empty the well ran dry
The ink has vanished without goodbye... -
I know that I will love
Living my life every day... -
The fire crackles
The fire roars... -
Abba
You hold our hands... -
From one eternal infinity,
Always was and thus will be... -
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My mother is over ninety,
diminishing day by day... -
He
brushed me off... -
Why is the exact never attained,
yet ceaselessly sought... -
Hand and guitar,
concave and convex... -
The supermarket,
though filled with goods... -
All things interpret all other things—
each refracting the rest...