Everyone
is going to work...

When God whispers your body
to my seizing hands...

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

About an hour passed
in the arms of silence...

Butterflies of poetry
forever flutter in their reflections...

We must again,
learn these mundane paths...

Others
Bridge us back to ourselves...

I dream of you
in jazz...

Your smile,
the white queue of musical tone...

Do you remember our dawn
where awareness first...

They all celebrate the sacrificial offering of...
The ceremony of the gore...

Hey little bird, hey little bird,
are you as hurt as my heart...