What we call personal
is not...
The distance
between stars and seconds...
Hey, Mr. Executioner,
why don’t you execute me...
Which is more valid,
to be, or not to be...
In a thin shirt of feeling,
a young girl...
They made this world
out of corporeal shapes...
Motions multiply
between the facing mirrors...
Tomorrow’s pantry,
I fed on stored-up wanting...
The sun,
still seems to turn around the earth...
We have nothing but time,
yet time is nothing...
Annihilation of proportions,
zero before the count...
Ignorance—darkness—
is bliss for the underworld creatures...