Write them on the sand
Don't carve your words on the rocks...

He remembered hearing a song coming from the...
He recalled he had always heard the song, though...

It was a song that reminded me
that I was equal to a stem of chrysanthemum...

Not to kill or harm
they just improvise justice...

In the middle of night I called her.
In the middle of the nightmare of daylight l...

Pure intents are free
From any uncertainty...

The bosoms of swollen meadows
drizzles...

It is not about the lines
it is about the capacity of silence...

Sometimes poetry bursts~~~~~~~Very often bubbles...
the bubbles of silence,~~~~~~~~~in the silence of...

Behind the curtains
of death distance and desire...

A pebble falls in the clear pond.
Corrosion withers when I look into your mirror...

I walk on the street of this town
unadorned and unfashioned...