"Who is Julie, calling you everyday?
Who IS she...

I died the first time,
when a wheel splashed a muddy spray...

Eight files of pawns
obeyed my Queen's order...

"On the eastern side it will be!"
pointed a middle-aged person...

You carry my burden of yesteryears.
Dust has thickened along your folds, yet...

As I breathe my poems,
flowers take the place of bullets...

One peafowl halted his search.
The air was warming up...

Eyes shrieked,
"I must have lost them!&quot...

My highs and my lows brush over the canvas
engaging a rainbow...

Its not that I have to show you my fondness,
yet I must script a poem...

As I study the sheen of a bronze Buddha,
an ikebana of laments breathe inside...

It was a night
that could make a soccer ball frolic...