Like pencils locked in drawers,
one by one, remained silent...

I fear not myself nor the world,
But my heart...

And it is true, that if tomorrow
the oceans go dry...

It's not the way one writes or the way one feels.
It's the way a writer takes the reader into a...

Shatter me into pieces,
Like confetti thrown in parties...

Her head was a race against the clock
speeding thoughts to one o'clock...

The moon got over my head
like the watch on my wrist...

In the backyard,
I searched for you in the stars...

If your definition of a poet is someone
who can make you relate and make you feel...

Through my hair glides fire and rain:
the misery my of days, my cries for help...

Outside the rustic porch,
near the stairs that bloom with magnolias...

I felt and I feel this feeling in me
some type of feeling...