I was invited to a painting class. I confessed I...
Anemones, anemones...
I was invited to a painting class. I confessed I...
Those inflamed lights...
I was invited to a painting class. I confessed I...
The lady with a red umbrella...
We teach presence
to fear the bewilderment of after...
Sometimes…
poetry bursts...
Throw your Bibles away.
Throw your Qur’ans away...
In the dolls’ realm,
everything happens...
The Inquisition burned the scientist
to prove their God...
Let me be indebted
to my depth...
I hope you are ready
for the death you made of me...
I asked: Where could I live?
He said: Between the mirror profiles...
The contact point of continuance is simple: I have...
I have carved a void to whirl inside. It is a...